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A Matinée of Miles' Constant Adultery

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A Matinée of Miles' Constant Adultery

I can't help but glare at the mirror, scowling at my own reflection. Seriously, how does Kristoph Gavin find his own reflection that attractive? Oh, and damn my glasses - they make me look like a senior citizen's grandfather, and damn Phoenix Wright for being a total brute and shoving me into a rehabilitation center for my sexual attraction to produce. I should be with my lovely wife, Carrot Sativus-Edgeworth, and my ten true daughters - Miley, Carota, Carotene, Karotte, Zanahoria, Carrot Jr. I, Carrot Jr. II, Carrot Jr. III, Miles Jr., and Orange.

However, as you can see, I've been barred from seeing them, and it's been that way for several months, with every subsequent day being another painful tribulation to live through. Nevertheless, it's one day closer to my final day in Vegetable Attraction Therapy, which is a month from now. But I would rather be released as soon as I can, because I cannot handle the constant struggle of being around Gavin - especially whenever he sees his own reflection as it always ends with him masturbating in public. I also get very lonely being isolated in this hellhole.

"I have to get out of here." I sigh, crestfallen in melancholy, sitting on the rehab's stiff bed. Taking out a picture of Carrot, I try to remind myself that once I finally am released from the rehab, I get to see my wife and daughters. But alas, the omnipresent environment of white walls and nurses armed with tranquilizers makes it difficult for me to convince myself that everything will be fine... I'm starting to feel lonely again -

"Miles Edgeworth." The bumbling old 'doctor' with pink hair calls for me, "You have a visitor. Apparently, he says that he's a good friend. I suggest you come down to the lobby."

A visitor? I have a visitor? Who would want to visit me? "Who is he?"

"I dunno. I think his name's Ascot or something." Ascot? Who the hell is Ascot? "Anyways, you should hurry up. I need to talk to a nurse, if you know what I mean." Sadly, I do. But I'm beyond confused about this visitor. I don't know any man by the name of Ascot. Oh well, I should head off to the lobby and find out who this mysterious man could be.


The lobby smells the same as it always does every afternoon; it reeks of formaldehyde, the elderly, and disinfectant. Looking around the place, all I see are the regular lobby-goers and a couple of nurses trying to forcefully drag Gavin away from the mirror - he's already reaching for his zipper, and I shouldn't even be watching any more of whatever is going on in there. Instead, I should actually try to focus on finding this 'Mr. Ascot' or whoever the hell he is. However, it's difficult to find someone I don't know in the sea of familiar strangers, "Miles."

I hear my name. I guess this Ascot man found me. But that's weird, his voice sounds all too similar to a certain someone - or rather, something I haven't seen in ages... Impossible. It can't be it. An ascot is an entirely different kind of tie. I must be hallucinating, "Miles, over here." Shifting my gaze to the beckoning call, I realize that I actually wasn't hallucinating, "Good evening, Miles."

"You." I'm speechless. Hovering on the sofa is something I thought I would never see again in my life. A handsome, comely, muscular billionaire cravat made of fabric stares at me with the same look I fell for years ago. I can feel a bit of dread as I say its name in slow, stuttering words, "It... It... It's been a long time, Paul."

"Indeed it has, Miles." The cravat slowly floats towards me, not taking its gaze away from mine. The atmosphere in the lobby suddenly tastes like the flavor of unnerving intimidation and palpable discomfort. Memories flood my mind. Those memories of my anus being lavishly and erotically pleasured by Paul's fabric penis in a night of debauchery, all those years ago - dammit, Miles! You have a wife and ten kids! Stop having a flashback about sex! ... Yet I can't stop feeling the incoming wave of sexual nostalgia the longer he gazes at me, "You seem like you've been doing fine since the last time I saw you. But considering you were shoved in here, I should guess otherwise."

"The reasoning behind my rehabilitation is... Complicated." I look away from my former lover as I sit on the couch. Making eye contact with Paul will only make things more awkward for me, "As for how I'm doing outside of rehabilitation, I'm perfectly well."

"Ha ha." Paul chuckles, reclining on the sofa. It glances at me for a few seconds prior to changing the subject, "You know, I realized that several years of separation can change a man and a cravat." Its hot, muscular cloth arms fold, and its tone of voice shifts to the seductive trill I recognize, "Tell me, have you been seeing someone lately? Or have you been with something else since I last saw you?"

"Yes, I've been with something else." Swallowing dry air, I shake my head, forcing myself to tell the truth, "I'm happily married to my wife, Carrot Sativus-Edgeworth. With Carrot, I have ten beautiful half-carrot, half-human daughters, and they're only a few months old."

As I expected, the cravat's reaction to my status as a married man with children isn't happiness, but instead, disappointment. In fact, it looks like it's actually feeling betrayed, as if disclosing my marriage was a Judas kiss. But I hope Paul understands that I'm married to a lovely carrot as soon as possible. That crestfallen look on its face is a powerful weapon, and I have a feeling it might use its charms to beguile me like it did back then, "Oh, so you're married with children, huh? That's a pity, because I know you can do better than a carrot."

"Don't talk about Carrot that way!" I want to punch him the instant it belittled my wife. But Paul's tempting stare is hypnotizing me with its promise of pleasurable decadence and anal satisfaction... Dammit, Miles, don't let your ex enrapture you like this! Just ignore it, don't look at it, and change the topic, "You... You know, instead of talking about me, can we talk about you instead? I'd rather not talk about me right now."

"Tsk tsk tsk." The wealthy, handsome cravat shakes its head and laughs, "You're such a tease." Paul smirks once more, right before it looks around the lobby for some unknown reason, "You know, Miles, I would love to tell you my life story; however, it's something I would rather discuss without anyone overhearing me. So why don't we take our discussion somewhere private? What do you say?" Before I could say anything, it yanks my arm, dragging me to the janitor's closet. I think I know what will happen next, and I have to resist...

But once again, I am too infatuated, paralyzed and enamored by Paul's charms to say even a single word. The billionaire cravat I gave up my body to all those years ago has me in its grasp, and a part of me wants to rekindle the romance with the handsome, elegant, fabric tie I used to know.

Besides, this won't the first time I've been unfaithful.


Carrot looks around, watching its ten kids running around the playground and making sure Miles Jr. doesn't start eating the mulch again. After its husband's mandatory rehabilitation for his severe sexual attraction to vegetables and fruits, it's been forced to work three jobs just to provide for their daughters and keep a roof above their heads. During the mornings, Carrot works as a cashier. On afternoons, it works as a grocery display. And during the night, it works the pole over at The Market, a gentleman's club. Yeah, being a "single" mother is an arduous task.

And it's even harder considering that Miles is a habitual adulterer. For all Carrot knows, right now, he could be sleeping with a squash, a pumpkin, or god forbid another banana. When the carrot found out that its husband impregnated a banana with a bastard child, all hell broke loose, and the prosecutor went on a rampage by sleeping with every vegetable and fruit in the produce aisle - or at least, he tried to sleep with as many as he could fit in his anus.

"..." The orange vegetable shudders, hoping that rehab will fix its husband's unfaithful tendencies. It recently began drinking its worries away with carrot juice. Basically, Carrot's been committing acts of cannibalism by consuming the liquefied flesh of its brothers and sisters all in the name of placating its uneasy sorrows. Be that as it may, sometimes vegetables have to make sacrifices to make things feel better... If only Miles understands that he's making his wife go through hell.

Sadly, he can't. Because once again, unbeknownst to Carrot, Miles' insatiable sexual appetite led him to relive the night of decadent debauchery with his old flame inside an empty janitor's closet, lustily moaning in erotic pleasure -

"Paul... You make my ass feel so good... I love it."

- Fin -