BAILIFF:  All rise!

JUDGE: Ooooowweeeeeoooo!  Now, what do we have before us today?

BAILIFF: There are two cases involving retail theft…

JUDGE: Boring!

BAILIFF: One resisting arrest….

JUDGE: Yawn.

BAILIFF: 2,604 drunk and disorderlies…

JUDGE: Slow weekend with the Eagles in London.

BAILIFF: One attempted murder…

JUDGE: Just attempted murder?

BAILIFF: Yes, Judge.  The victim and the accused were stationed together at a remote outpost in Antarctica.  The victim allegedly kept telling the accused how the books he was reading would end.  The accused allegedly had enough of this and stabbed him in the heart.

JUDGE: Justifiable almost-homicide.  Case dismissed.

BAILIFF: Well, that just leaves a civil case- suit for specific performance.

JUDGE: This better not suck, or I’m taking it out on you.

BAILIFF: The Court hereby calls case 18-666, The Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast that is called Dragon, Prince of This World, Father of Lies, Lord of Darkness v. Belichick.

ROBOT DEVIL:  Be’elzebot Robot Devil for the Plaintiff, your honor.

TOMMY FROM QUINZEE: Tommy From Quinzee, Attorney at Lah, fah the Defendant.  From the firm of Sully, Sully and House-O.

JUDGE: The fuck is this?

ROBOT DEVIL: Your honor, my client entered into a relatively straightforward contract with the defendant, William Belichick, more than twenty years ago.  Despite the fact that my client has performed all his obligations and rendered services pursuant to the contract, Mr. Belichick has refused to perform his obligations thereunder; to wit, the rendering up of his immortal soul to my client for purposes of torture, torment, tribulation and eternal damnation to the Ninth Circle of Hell.  Mr. Belichick has reigned over the NFL for the previous 18 years with tyranny, treachery and cruelty thanks to the efforts of my client.  We ask for simple justice in return: the opportunity to inflict eons of torturous punishment on the shriveled husk of a spirit that resides within him.

JUDGE: Mr. From Quinzee, what is your client’s position on this?

TOMMY: Yah Honah, that fahckin’ guy ovah theah is a total queea…um, I mean, he’s a fahkin’ asshole.  My client wouldah wiped the flaah wit the entiah league regahdless of this guy, cause Brady is the G.O.A.T. and fahck those otha guys.  Plus, Mr. Horns on his Head ovah theah did nawt follow through on the terms of the contract, so my client ain’t gonna turn ovah his soul.

JUDGE: Call your first witness!

SATAN: Well, as I recall he found me through a referral.  Mr. Belichick had been working under another long-time client of mine.

ROBOT DEVIL: Bill Parcells?

SATAN: No, Wellington Mara.

ROBOT DEVIL: So when did you meet Mr. Belichick for the first time?

SATAN: It was 1995.  He had just been fired by the Cleveland Browns on their way out of town for Baltimore.  He was standing there on Veterans’ Memorial Bridge, trying to decide whether to drown himself in the Cuyahoga or set himself on fire in the Cuyahoga.  So I did my usual mysteriously-appear-next-to-a-desperate-person routine and asked him what it was he wanted.

ROBOT DEVIL: And what did he say?

TOMMY: AHBJECTION!  Calls fah heahsay!

ROBOT DEVIL: Statement by a party-opponent, your Honor.

JUDGE: Fuck you both.

SATAN: So he says “I just want to win.  I don’t care what it takes, I can’t do this anymore.  I’ll do anything.”   And I responded, “I can make that happen.”

ROBOT DEVIL: And did you negotiate terms of a contract?

SATAN: Yes.

ROBOT DEVIL: And did you reduce the terms of the contract to writing?

SATAN: Yes.

ROBOT DEVIL: I will ask you to look at the scroll made of the flesh of a thousand tortured human sacrifices previously marked as Exhibit 22.  Do you recognize this scroll made of the flesh of a thousand tortured human sacrifices?

SATAN: I do.  This is the contract we entered.

ROBOT DEVIL: And what were the essential terms of the contract?

TOMMY: AHBJECTION! The scroll made of the flesh of a thousand tortaahed human sacrifices speaks fah itself.

JUDGE: Overruled.

SATAN: It was pretty simple, really.  I agreed that he would begin on the road to career recovery and eventually reign o’er the NFL with an iron fist, and with fire and with sword, driving all before him and marching into the Hall of Fame to the sounds of the lamentations of a thousand mothers for their lost children.  And in return, he agreed to turn over his soul after the 51^st Super Bowl for my eternal torment and amusement.

ROBOT DEVIL: And are these your signatures?

SATAN: Yes.  Mine is the signature in the blood of the unclean, and he signed in blue.

ROBOT DEVIL: And did you fulfill your obligations under the contract?

SATAN: Yes.  Mr. Belichick had essentially an uninterrupted rise in professional status from that point on, thanks to my interventions.  I would sow discord among opposing teams, have one of my hellhounds bring him a copy of the other teams’ playbook every week.  I made sure my referees always gave them the benefit of calls or no-calls.  Hell, I once convinced Pete Carroll that Marshawn Lynch had turned into a gigantic pulsating gopher and burrowed out of the stadium.  That dumb bastard actually fell for it and called a pass at the goal line instead.  And then there was that Shanahan kid….

ROBOT DEVIL: And were there any amendments or alterations to the contract?

SATAN: At one point, Mr. Belichick asked something about those thousand mothers and what else they might do.  But nothing that we actually agreed on.

ROBOT DEVIL: And despite this, Mr. Belichick has refused to turn over his immortal soul for use as a satanic Slip n’ Slide?

SATAN: Indeed.

ROBOT  DEVIL:  Your witness!

TOMMY: Mistah Satan, isn’t it true that you have at various times actively worked to undahmine and sabotage my client?

SATAN: No.

TOMMY: You don’t considah David Fahckin’ Tyree to be an instance of sabotage?

SATAN: Like I said, the Maras have been clients of mine for some time.  The contract clearly specifies that in the event of a conflict of interest between two clients of SatanCorp, the older or more lucrative client’s interests will prevail.

TOMMY: What ahbout fahckin’ Deflategate?  Wheah were you then, Mistah Satan?

SATAN: Listen, even I have staffing problems.  Who knew that a guy named “Dorito Dink” would be unreliable?

TOMMY: And you didn’t do this out of jealousy?

SATAN: Of course not.  I have every reason to want Mr. Belichick to succeed- it’s great marketing.  Every cheer from the fans in Foxborough might as well be “Hail Satan!”

TOMMY: Youah Honah, I’d like to move for judicial notice of the fact that everyone at ESPN, NBC, CBS, Fox, all print media, the League Office and in all other cities HATES US BECAUSE THEY AIN’T US!  NO ONE DENIES THIS!

JUDGE: Denied.

TOMMY: BUT…but…no one denies this…..

BELICHICK: grumblegrumblegetyourassoverheregrumblegrumble

TOMMY: A moment to consult with my client?

BELICHICK: (muted) grumblegrumblegrumblegrumblegrumble

TOMMY: Youah Honah, I move for immediate dismissal on grounds of impossibility.  My client points out that the contract was non-binding and void ab initio for want of considahration.

JUDGE: How so?

TOMMY: Youah Honah, my client points out that he– in point of fact– has no soul. Theahfoah, any contract which puhpoahts to claim his soul as consideration is illusory.

JUDGE: That’s…that’s crazy.  If that’s correct, then equity would still demand…

TOMMY: Judge, any claim in equity is faaaahcked by the doctrine of unclean hands.  Or hooves, in this case.  NO ONE DENIES THIS!

JUDGE: I…I…well, I can’t deny it.  Case dismissed!

SATAN: We…we lost?

BELICHICK: grumblegrumblefuckingamateurgrumblegrumble.

FIN

Note: Not all the law stuff in here is accurate.  DOOOONNNNNN’T CAAAAARE!

GIANT HATTIP TO LOWCOMMANDEROFTHESUPERSOLDIERS FOR THE PHOTOSHOP!