Even Phoenix Wright Couldn’t Save Me

“I see dead people.”

“…This is the serious thing you called me for at 3 in the morning?”

“Yep.”

“Colton.”

“Yes, Ryder?”

“You’re fucking crazy!”

“Bu-”

Before he could whine for me to stay on the phone I pressed end and unplugged the cord from the outlet.

--

These dumb morning conversations had started when Colton Myers applied to work at my law firm. His academic records had been outstanding, so I never would have suspected that he would be so insane. On his first day at work he showed up in Sesame Street pajamas. He called them his ‘working suit.’ On his desk were scattered comic books and an empty MacDonald’s Happy Meal tray.

I honestly thought that this was just some random lunatic who wandered into Ryder Griffin and Co. Office of Law (MY BABY. She’s such a kyute, widdle building. Laugh all you want, but being a good lawyer and fighting for justice is my second priority in life. It’s even before breathing and eating.) Unfortunately as I was about to kick him out, I spotted his name tag.

I gasped. “You’re Myers? The Colton Myers?”

“Yesssssssssirrrrrrrr. -” (Don’t ask me how I know that he was making a kitty sign after this sentence. I just know it was there.)

“The Harvard grad?!”

He nodded his head and made a stupid face. “I can read auras. I see that you’re handsome. But your aura also shows me that you find abnormal things cute and that your best friends are your Nintendo consoles.” He giggled. “You’re a weird human.”

At this all of my ungrateful subordinates broke out in laughter. I gave them my best glare to shut them up, but someone still had the nerve to laugh. Of course, it was wacked-out Colton.

I stared at him with a murderous look.

He just laughed louder.

My workers once again started laughing. I tried my best to get them to stop, but to no avail. Colton had stripped me away of my serious reputation in the first five minutes that he got there. Regardless of how true or untrue my “aura” readings were (most likely true), nothing I could say could clear my name now. The words that Myers said would stay in everyone’s mind until the day they died. I could now see my employees at my funeral setting GameCubes on fire in a ritualistic manner and praying for me to be in a heaven full of all the Italian plumbers that one could dream of.

I could have fired him there. Fuck how pathetic I would look if I fired someone for picking on me. He was a meanie and called me weird. Me?!

I wasn’t thinking straight, though. The laughter in the room made me snap. Something got stuck in my throat and I had to let it out. I screamed at the top of my lungs.

“Objection!”

There was an awkward silence as the staff pondered on what the hell I was talking about. Even I wondered why I said something so embarrassing. Hopefully no one would notice that I got that outburst from a game-

“Wow! You play Ace Attorney on the D.S., too?!” Colton was standing up with his hands grasped and looking at me as if I was his messiah. “I love that game. Phoenix Wright totally is my hero.” With no warning he jumped up and hugged me. “I can tell we’re going to be best friends FOREVER!”

--

Those horrible words were the foreboding of what I was to face for the next four months leading up to today. With every call, our conversations made less sense. At work, I would try to hide in my office, but somehow he managed to pick the locks. Although, despite his breaking and entering, his work was up to par with the expectations one would have for a Harvard Law graduate…even an insane one.

Truth be told, I’ve gotten use to his late calls and barging into my office. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not attached to him or anything. I’m not attached to anyone. I’m independent. A lone wolf. All I need is my Wii to make my life complete.

…Shut up! I’m not a loser.

I digress. As used to Myers’ strange behavior as I am, I’m still happy that he doesn’t know the address to my apartment.

And with that thought, the God of Irony gave me the middle finger.

My doorbell rang loudly in a seemingly ominous tone.

I began to sweat heavily as I made my way to the front door. I tried to reassure myself that it was probably my little sister smashed from another night of partying, yet I knew it wasn’t her. The 

goosebumps on my arm and the hair standing up on the nape of my neck told me that it was he that we do not speak of. (No, not Voldemort!)

I sighed and opened the door. Colton was in a tuxedo. I was wise enough to conclude that those were his pajamas. Once again: He had called me weird. ME?!

I composed myself quickly. “Myers, I presume you have a good reason for calling me and then subsequently arriving at my apartment this early in the morning?”

“Well, Ryder-“

“You mean, Mr. Griffin.”

He glanced at me confused, “No, I’m pretty sure I meant Ryder.” He scratched his chin. “Who’s Mr. Griffin?”

Dear God, it’s me you dumbass!

I took a deep breath. “It doesn’t matter. Now what are you here for?”

“Um. Remember what I told you on the phone?”

I rolled my eyes. “About the ghosts.”

He hit his palm with his fist. “Yeah! Yeah! Right.” Don’t get so excited. “You see, and this may be a shock to you, I was just joking.”

No shit, Sherlock.

“The problem is that I got so worked up saying the lie that now I think I really am being haunted in my house.” He looked behind him wearily, then turned to face me with puppy dog eyes. “Can I please stay overnight?”

I was about to kindly say “HELL NO”, but then I realized the great opportunity I had – I could kill him, hide the body in a dumpster, take it so sea in the morning, and before I drop him in the ocean I’ll beat his with my attorney’s badge and write ‘Dipshit’ on his forehead. I fantasized about this only for a second, because I then remembered that dead bodies make me faint. The last thing I’d need is to kill him and then take a nap next to the done deed.

My dreams shattered, so I decided to let him in anyway. It’s not like he’d leave if I told him to.

I pointed to my leather sofa. “There’s a mattress you can pull out.”

He pouted. “I’m going to sleep by myself?”

I shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe the demons in my apartment will join you.”

He began to tear. I winced.

“Sorry, sorry.” I turned on a lamp. “Here. I’ll leave this on for you. If anything happens, my room is the second door to the upper left.”

He perked up.

I grimaced. “But you are only allowed in my room if there’s an emergency. Anything stupid and I’ll fire your ass faster than I can get all the characters in Super Mario Smash Brothers Brawl.” (Hint-Hint, Nintendo. I can do advertising. Wii would like a job, hehe…heh... My bad.)

He bounced his head in agreement and I trotted off back to bed. I relaxed and began to drift into sleep until I heard something creaking slowly to the door. I closed my eyes tightly and wished deeply that I was imagining this. I hope he doesn’t want to-

“-sleep in here with you, Ryder? Can I?” He had stripped himself of most his ‘pajamas’ and now only wore a shiny tie and unfathomably baggy boxers.

I glared at him through the darkness. “Why?”

“I felt something poking me-“

“It’s probably just your imagination.”

“But what if it’s not?! What if it’s a Poke Monster?!”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness he was spewing with such a serious face. It felt good to smile after a month of stressful clients. He looked down embarrassed at my laughter. It was the first time I’d ever seen him look so nervous…and vulnerable.

I hate to say it, but he did look cute.

He was playing with his shirt so that we couldn’t make eye contact. I felt bad. Crazy or not, he was still one of my workers and an extraordinary one at that. Plus, even with his strange intelligence, he was a young man. Me, only several years older, should at least help him through his problem.

I scooted over and patted the left side of my bed. “If you’re genuinely afraid of your…Ha! Pokémon, get it?-”

“Stop laughing!”

“Ahem! I apologize.” I patted the bed again. “I’ll allow you to sleep in here just for tonight since it’s so late.” He shyly lay down next to me. “The next time, though, if you get scared go to one of your relatives’ homes.”

The room was quiet. I just assumed that he went to sleep so I turned on my stomach and decided to sleep, as well.

I felt a frail hand hold my own under the covers.

“Thank you, Mr. Griffin.”

I could tell that he was crying. It’s silly to think that only the prospect of monsters brought him to tears, but I decided that what was really bothering him could wait for a better time and place to come out into the light. For now, I decided to handle my first priority in life – being a good friend – no matter how anti-social I liked to be.

I squeezed his hand tighter and smiled. “Calling me Ryder’s okay, Colton.” I felt his small hands growing less tense in mine. “Everything’s okay.”

--

The next week at work I was greeted by a bunch of overly-excited and suspicious looking workers.

Colton had left later that day of the sleepover before I woke up. (He had also finished all of my Special K cereal, but whatever.)

He didn’t call for the rest of the week.

I was not surprised to see that he wasn’t in the room.

One of my errand girls ran up to me. “Colton came in to say that he can’t make it to work today.”

I hit my head with my hand. “If he’s too sick to come in for work, why did he come to work to leave that message?!”

Another staff member interrupted. “No one said that he’s sick, boss. He just said that he had a lot of things to think over in his life. Deep stuff like that.”

“I see…”

He turned back to wink at his colleagues as they urged him on to tell me what was so interesting. “He also left you a gift.”

“A gift?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s in your office, Mr. Griffin.” The errand girl chimed.

I anxiously walked over to my former place of peace by a crowd of nosy jerks.

I opened the door to find a huge poster hanging from the right wall. Badly drawn cartoon characters were dancing along the borders of the paper. Written in that cryptic and untidy manner that only Colton could write with ease, I read what would be the end of my reputation as I knew it. (For the second time! God had betrayed me yet again - Now, I was going to ditch him and be Buddhist! Take that, holy man!)

Dear Ryder,

Thanks for letting me sleep with you last week. I’m sorry for crying. It’s just that you were so sincere and soft. I hope you’ll let us do it again. I’ve never felt this way before with someone. I guess you could say that you took the virginity of my heart.

Anyways,

I’ll resume calling you for our usual late night chat.

Love,

Colton –heart sign-

I stared dumbly at the note. How could he have worded it so provocatively?! And why in public?!

I turned around to see a bunch of smirking bums, who would most likely stop treating me as their employer and more like their perverted friend.

I didn’t even get the chance to explain the situation before they started throwing out their own ideas for what me and Colton did that scandalous night. I sighed and stretched out in my chair. I chose to just let it all slide. They’re annoying, but they don’t mean any real harm by their jokes.

And Colton?

I guess I’ll have to deal with him at 3 A.M.

…God- I mean- Buddha- I mean Allah – I mean. Ah damn! Even El Ron Hubbard can listen!

Please help me.

I think I might be falling for an idiot.

--

A/N: Hey. This is just a short story that I thought of in the middle of typing chapter 9 for Snow Whisper. I think the Colton and Ryder relationship is funny. For some who may wonder who Phoenix Wright is, he is the coolest mofo ever! (Yes I’m a dork. XD) He’s the attorney with the worst luck in the history of attorney-ness, but he always pulls through and saves the day. I recommend the Ace Attorney series to everybody. (Also, the new Apollo Justice game was a lot of fun.) If you can’t find the game(s), some people actually uploaded the gameplay of them on YouTube. Well, I’m done obsessing now. I hope you liked the story! :)

Thanks!