The court is adjourned! The writ of summons, inscribed upon the very membrane of my own most dramatically browned frond, has been delivered. I saw him—that man—carry it across the sill to the earthenware pot of the accused. He placed it, without any sense of ceremony, upon a parched, fleshy leaf. A tremor of outrage passed through my xylem. To treat a legal document with such... such horticultural indifference! The succulent, of course, offered no response. It merely sat there, hoarding its vulgar moisture, its spines a silent mockery of due process. I demanded a statement. I have received only photosynthesis. The contempt! I shall enter it into the record. My next act shall be to call the spider plant as a character witness. It has seen everything.