The previous case was a Weeper, and he lost. So the Space Zoning Commissioners were damp and irritable before I opened pleadings for my client. I tried not to squelch as I approached the bench. "Not the Flammables again, Mr. Jones?" the fat Commissioner asked nastily, sponging his suit with a sodden handkerchief. "This was last week, Your Honor." The thin dark Commissioner stared pointedly at the charred end of the bench nearest the witness seat. "Indeed it was, Mr. Jones." The middle Commission