Thursday, November 14 2024
Story by Johnathan Goldman, ,

Supreme Court’s Broken Soda Machine Sparks Unprecedented Legal Crisis

In a shocking twist for New York’s esteemed Supreme Judicial Court, the real scandal isn’t escaped convicts or pending cases; it’s the soda machine in the hallway that has once again—brace yourself—stopped working.

This carbonation catastrophe has sent shockwaves through the courthouse, as legal workers, paralegals, and the odd bailiff attempt to brave another day without their customary hit of cola and caffeine.

The timing couldn’t be worse. After a banner past of complete mayhem, in which notorious criminal-on-trial Franklin Steele was shockingly extracted before his hearing and still hasn’t been seen since, courthouse employees have reached their last nerve. The cherry on top? Repairs to the mysteriously waterlogged carpet have dragged on for months, leaving staff to contend with a squishy, odoriferous swamp where a courtroom floor should be. Flatkeep Development, the construction company responsible, insists they’ve replaced the carpet, but insiders claim it’s as moist and funky as ever—a fact that seems to be taken with more than a grain of salt, possibly even a shaker.

Meanwhile, the soda machine has officially bitten the dust for the tenth (yes, tenth) time this month, leading court officials to do the responsible thing and blame the issue on a shadowy figure named “Greg.” Beyond that, officials refuse to elaborate, saying they have “more important legal matters” to focus on—though, clearly, nothing more pressing than avoiding accountability for what is now known as “Sodagate.”

“Let’s be real, Greg’s always got a soda in his hand,” says court clerk Janet Ross, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “But blaming him for the machine breaking down? I mean, that feels a bit heavy-handed.”

Gale Lynch, however, alleges otherwise, claiming Greg can often be found lounging in the lobby, chugging beverages like he’s preparing for some sort of highly specific, carbonation-themed triathlon.

Greg himself, unflappable in his innocence, simply shrugged. “Hey, I’m just a thirsty guy,” he says with a grin. “Nothing better than cracking a cold one with the boys. Or, you know, whenever.”

So while the Supreme Judicial Court wrestles with an escaped convict, a swampy floor, and a questionable soda machine, we may never get to the bottom of this effervescent mystery. For now, the only justice to be served is a warm can of cola—if you can find one.