The streets of Parodopolis were rainy and Joey wasn't in the mood for changing the weather like he had been known to do on occasion. So he trudged through the puddles of the back streets without any aim nor destination. Where it would land him, he didn't care. He had just accidentally thought pistachio ice cream out of existence and was feeling kind of bad about it. It wasn't entirely his fault though. His Naicluvian blood couldn't handle the basic amino acids of the ice cream mixed with those proteins from the pistachio nuts and he simply, and very temporarily- ok, so it was an hour- went nuts.

Joey was spasming in the park with people carefully walking around him – except for the guy who stole his wallet – when he realised he was actually being scanned by a level nine Xnylonian cellular analyser. Joey put the whole anaphylactic shock thing on hold for a moment and looked up in surprise.

The man watching him was dressed in a neat grey business suit, with bowler hat and umbrella, and he was carrying a rolled up Paradopolis Times under his arm. Except he didn’t really look like that at all when Joey squinted and saw him as he truly was.

“Entity known as Joey Z?” the man in the bowler asked. He handed a document to the Naiucluvian wanderer.

“Who wants to know?” Joey demanded, checking the paper he’d just been given.

“Oh, I’m just a process server,” the stranger told him, tipping his hat then vanishing in a field of dull grey sparkles.

Joey read the paper. It indicted him for the destruction of the Shee-Yar Imperium, the murder of over ninety billion beings.

“I never murdered ninety billion beings!” Joey protested. “It’s a bum rap!”

It went on to explain that he’d therefore been scheduled for cosmic deletion, and politely explained that he had twenty-four hours to put his affairs in order.

“I don’t have affairs,” Joey wailed. “I wish I had affairs.”

He went back to spasming on the ground for a while and worried about what to do next.

Later:

"Well, that was fun" Joey stated as he stood up and brushed himself off. "But I'd best get to finding some affairs to properly organize."

He considered his dilemma: How to make better a world where evil brings profit and virtue none at all? No, wait... that wasn't it. It was the false charge of genocide levied against him by... Er... Okay, the summons didn't say. Well, he was sure that point would become apparent as the story went on.

"What I need..." he decided reasonably, "Is a good lawyer. Preferably one who wasn't that fond of pistachio ice cream."