Flawed // G.B.D

2

Never trust a man who sits, uninvited, at the head of the table in another mans home.

Not my words, the words of my granddad who as a result of saying this landed himself the farthest away from this table and won't be coming back anytime soon. It's not what he said that's the problem, It's who he said it about.

Judge WhiteHall; one of the most
powerful men in the country who at this very moment is sitting at the head of my family table for the annual Earth Day gathering.

~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dad returns from the kitchen with a fresh bottle of white wine to find his usual seat taken. I can see he is shocked by it but as it is Judge Whitehall, he merely stalls in his tracks, jiggles the wine opener in His hand before moving round to sit by Mum.
Where Judge Whitehall should have sat.

I can tell Mum is nervous because she is more perfect than ever. She doesn't have a hair out of place on her head, her blonde locks twisted elaborately into a style that only she could do herself. Her skin is porcelain, as though she glows, and her makeup is immaculate.

In truth, my mum looks this beautiful to most people everyday as a model in high demand. And despite having three kids, her body is as perfect as it always was. She's pernickety about looks. She is uncomfortable when anything is less than perfect; a crooked tooth, a double chin, an oversized nose - it all makes her question people. But she is not alone. Most people feel exactly how she does. She compares it with trying to selling a car without washing it first: it should be gleaming. The same goes for people.

I'm a prefectionist too, but it doesn't stretch to physical appearances, meerly to language and behaviour which bugs the hell out of my sister ,Jessie, who is the most unspecific person I know. Though she is specifically unspecific - I'll give her that.

I watch my nervous family's behaviour with a sense of smugness because I don't feel an ounce of their tension right now. I'm actually amused. I know Judge Whitehall as Richard, dad to my boyfriend Joe. I'm in his house most days of the week, have been on holidays with him, have been at private family functions, and know him better than my parents do.

I've seen Richard first thing in a morning with messy hair and toothpaste on his lip, I've seen him in the middle of the night, wandering around in long checkered pants and a white t-shirt, I've seen him drunk and passed out on the sofa or on the floor, I've seen him drunkenly dance and poorly sing karaoke, I've seen him cry, I've heard him snore. I can't be afraid of someone who's human said I see and know.

However my family and the rest of the country see him as a terrifiying creature to fear. I liken him to one of those talent show judges on TV, an over-exaggerated cartoon character who gets a kick out of being booed. I enjoy mimicking him, much to Joe's delight. He rolls around laughing while I march up and down being Richard in judge mode; whooshing my homemade cape around my neck, making scrunched faces and pointing my finger. Richard loves a good fingerpoint whenever a camera is on. I'm convinced the scary-Judge persona is only an act when at his job, abit like an actor. He also does an awesomeness cannonball into a pool.

Richard, who is know as Judge WhithHall to everyone except me and Joe is the head judge of a committee named the Guild. The Guild, originally set up as a temporary public enquiry into wrong- doing , is now a permanent fixture that oversees the inquisition of individuals accused of being flawed. The flawed are regular citizens who have made moral or ethical mistakes. Personally I've never been to a court to see a flawed case but it is live on all of the tv stations owned by Richard.