rian Nichols, the world's most rightfully-imprisoned black man, appeared Friday in the same courthouse where he killed three people on March 11 in Fulton County, Georgia. Asked to enter his plea by a very timid judge, surrounded by trigger-happy bailiffs and police, Nichols pleaded "déjà vu" in his case.

While his attorneys very politely reminded him he could only plead "guilty" or "not guilty," though "not guilty" seemed an extremely unlikely choice, Nichols laughed off his odd feeling of having been through it all before.

"Sorry," the very large former linebacker told the court, as they listened with wide eyes and trembling lips. "It's just like, wow, I feel like I've been here before in some way. I have this whole memory of struggles with officers and gunfire and—anyway… guess we should get to trial and stuff. So, who's the misguided people who are going to testify against me?"

The judge, who asked not to be identified or even revealed to the suspect, addressed the court from inside a large crate he or she had hauled up behind the bench, and suggested they put off the proceedings and gave the prosecutors a chance to build up a rock-solid case against the defendant—who, the judge acknowledged, certainly may very well not be guilty, for all we know.

A little more than a month ago, the gigantic nasty African-American Hannibal Lecter wrestled out of custody of court officers, secured a gun, and shot three people, including a judge, before making his way outside for a spree of carjackings and hostage-taking that eventually ended in his arrest. Numerous charges were added to Nichols' already long list, which included rape, aggravated sodomy, and false imprisonment, the charges of the previous trial where the convicted badass attacked the court. It was the second trial on the charges for Nichols, after the first trial ended when the jury couldn't come to a decisive verdict.

"Boy, I feel like quite the ass now," admitted one of the holdout jurors from the first trial, who asked to remain anonymous out of embarrassment and fear of possibly being killed. "I owe a few of my fellow jurors some apologies now, that's for sure. Back then I sure didn't think him capable of rape and kidnapping, but now that I think about it, I was worried about him leaping into the jury box and bludgeoning me to death. I just assumed the two were mutually exclusive."

Court officials took no chances with Nichols this time, bringing the besuited behemoth into court in leg irons, shackles, and wearing a global positioning device on his ankle that would self-destruct upon walking out of the courthouse area. For extra safety measures, the gray suit Nichols wore was also packed with gunpowder by deputies and a twenty-foot fuse trailed behind him, just in case he tried to make another break for it.

Bailiff Vigo Metzel was in charge of Nichols' secure transportation to and from the courthouse.

"Some of us wanted to give him one of those half-hockey masks to keep him from eating people, but we thought that just made him look even more terrifying. No one would want to be on the security detail then. Besides, no one would volunteer to put the mask on him."

When questioned as to why anyone would want to defend a client with so much stacked against them, including verifiable security footage from the very court where he's going to be tried, Nichols' attorneys, who also asked not to be identified, said that even though it was unlikely Nichols would go free, they wanted Nichols to know definitively whose side they had been on in the event he ever breaks out again.

In the meanwhile, Nichols has privately told his attorneys and the prosecution that he only made his escape attempt from the courthouse in March so he could find the real perpetrators of the crimes of which he was accused. If he had found them, Nichols said, he certainly would have killed them, too.

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During my teen-age years, my “Reckless Red” days, I let go of that dream and sunk into the hopeless despair only fit for songs by The Smiths. It’s in the nature of a teen-ager to turn cynical, like the very butterfly I earlier metaphored sprouting its wings as part of its growth. However, I tricked fate, and as I got older I grew far more immature than even I could have imagined. I resumed my dreams, and it was like I had never stopped believing I could lasso the Loch Ness Monster or trap Bigfoot in a box with a carrot as bait. Of course, doing either one of those would have been silly. But last year, while the commune took that long sabbatical I didn’t really know about, I took to New Orleans to pursue my dream. And the world’s biggest butterfly.

I speak of none other than the Baton Rouge Butterfly, one of the most famous local legends of all time. Though no one in New Orleans or Baton Rouge had ever heard of it, so don’t bother asking any of them. This local legend about Louisiana is only famous in part of New Jersey and, I understand, some areas in Europe. I uncovered a book on it at a yard sale, only partially colored by the previous owner, that sparked my childhood interest in the legend and I assembled my mythic creature-hunting team of old with renewed vigor.

Loading my equipment into my customized Hummer XXL, a vehicle unfit for travel on earth roads, I traveled south to that beloved region with my loyal manservant Rascal and my faithful friend of many years, Sully. It seems like only yesterday the news just wouldn’t shut up about Hurricane Katrina, yet when we reached these battered shores the whole region appeared to be in the midst of wonderful reconstruction. I’m sure the several buildings my Hummer XXL knocked over or crushed were helpful losses to paving over the city of old, they didn’t look very new at all. We researched the existence of the Baton Rouge Butterfly in New Orleans, since I was much more familiar with that city and its many fine houses for gentleman tourists, but I have to admit we knew a lot more about the legend than any of them did. They mocked our faith in the unproven and a few of them made fun of my fine white suit. But were we dissuaded? Sully was, and he napped in the passenger seat for most of the trip. I was not, and nor was Rascal,as I pay him handsomely.

We surveyed the entire city of Baton Rouge and its surrounding areas, the world’s largest moth net in tow. Did we find the creature of my youthful dreams? No. Did we discover even minimal proof of its existence? That’s difficult to say, but everybody says no. Let’s change that question however: Did we chase a dream and discover something even bigger than ourselves in the process? No. However, I think I can dare to say we displayed uncommon faith in the unseen and changed the hearts of the people of Louisiana, even helping the rebirth of the cities damaged by the hurricane. They would also say this is a big negative, too, but they can shut-up and stop pissing on my dreams.

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I’ve picked up inside dirt on the movie business that I never would have believed. Did you know it’s considered unprofessional to handwrite your scripts? I thought it made mine look classier, but whatever. Gotta play ball, as they say. So I got me a laptop, hopefully my sister won’t miss it until I’m done, and now I’m heavy at work on my screenplay.

Nancy gave us all sorts of shortcuts on what to do when you can’t think of what you want your movie to be about. One thing a lot of screenwriters do is take an old movie, change the names of the characters, and give it some modern gimmick to make it different from the old film. And if you want, you don’t even need the gimmick. Nancy says Hollywood doesn’t even really care. Seems like they make all their movies this way, judging by a look at the latest releases. That makes it so much easier to write. I’m good at lying, but fiction is something else entirely.

The movie I decided to remake is Jaws. Nancy said I’m a natural at this business, because I took a movie that was really popular and I’m remaking it. I said I thought it was about time for a new shark movie, because people have been getting cocky lately and I think the sharks are starting to notice. It’s just a matter of time before they start really fucking people up, just for laughs. But Nancy suggested I make it something else, since if I make it a shark everybody will know I’m ripping off Jaws. With a good remake, says Nancy, only critics and people of average intelligence will know I’m ripping off Jaws, because I used some subtlety. And that’s what I’m going for.

That got me thinking: What’s scarier than a shark? If you said two sharks, that’s pretty funny. But you’re not helping. No, I decided on a bear. Because if you think about it, bears are even worse. They look so cute, like you can go up and play with them. That’s nature’s way of suckering in people to eat, and Darwin called it natural selection, because he thought that was funny. So that’s what I wanted, this cute bear that everyone thinks is so cuddly, but then he swipes with his claws and shit and it’s good-night, Irene.

Well, it went through a real fucked-up part where I was totally blocked, trying to come up with what a bear would be doing underwater all the time. Then I just said it was part of a government science experiment and a billionaire corporation is involved. That explains it all. And, of course, I had to give the bear a scuba tank, a mask, and some flippers, because having this bear swim underwater for too long without all that stuff just wouldn’t be realistic. But other than that, I can totally “borrow from the outline” in Jaws, as Nancy says, real sly for a complete stealing of that movie. I have a town sheriff in my movie, which I’m thinking will be played by Conan O’Brien, so I’m just calling him “Conan” in the script. Anyway, it’s really rolling. I’ve got maybe five scenes done, including this really cool prologue where the bear fights a dolphin in the secret government lab. Just to set up how much of a bad-ass the bear is. If I keep this up I might even give up acting for screenwriting. It’s a lot easier at least.

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