The Super Bowl Party that went worse

A Taste for Manslaughter(s): A rare reflection to a 2018 Super bowl party that went awry.

Eagles vs. Patriots

State of Pennsylvania vs. Seavers & Mathers         Docket No. 0128956823  

Information gathered through news stations and court transcripts

By Vasilika Vanya Marinkovic Secret World Entertainment ©

A crowd stood outside the Philadelphia Superior Courthouse. Some spectators waived signs with blood red paint dripping down them. While still others had signs saying save the men. A few others held signs about cooking turning deadly. “Mathers and Seavers are cold hearted murderers and should fry in oil” was a popular sign as well. An attractive reporter, named Chelsea Street, informed viewers amidst her crew and some of the crowd.

“Death, murder, manslaughter or maybe worse happened at the Davenports super bowl party months ago, leaving behind two widows and several terrified and grief-stricken children. Today, finally, this horror is drawing to conclusion. There are so many variables to this case, the now infamous Philadelphia Criminal Division vs. Seavers and Mathers. That’s Bill Mathers and Mel Seavers. The men are on trial for manslaughter of two men, Gordon Branson and Harry Davenport, who along with his wife had hosted this get together. Yikes, this case makes me want to never attend a super bowl party”.

“That’s because you’re a tweeting whore with two braincells and a nickel and dime bachelors that doesn’t know any better” bit Richard Blakesfield the seasoned star anchor of Philadelphia on top News, now on the steps of the courthouse and cameras coming into him.

Chelsea Street rolled her eyes.

“This case is criminal. It’s criminal to persecute two innocent men without knowing all the variables of which I’ve got some good news for you! And finally, it’s criminal that the Patriots lost against the Eagles.”

“You’re God damned right!” backed up a man.

“Boo, Eagles won fair and square bitches” hollered another man, “Just face facts, you’re losers!”

Suddenly there was some shoving in the crowd, but a handful of policemen quickly intervened. The seasoned anchor went on.

“So, the good news is” said Blakesfield-

“Ooh! What is it?” asked Chelsea Street sarcastically.

“My inside scoop has informed me that the wrongfully accused men in that courtroom might have a fighting chance. The defense is going to go after the widow of one of the dead men who held the party. Yes, my inside scoop reveals that Mary Davenports cooking-what she scooped up-

“Did you get your degree at a Baskin Robbins” asked Chelsea Street, but Blakesfield continued untethered.

“Was so God damned horrific, that it drove the wrongfully accused men to accidental suicide/manslaughter of the two men in question.”

Some of the crowd gasped at this and a woman cried, obviously a relative of one of the deceased.

“How the hell did you build your career?” asked the lovely Chelsea Street. “Inbred relatives at your ivy league school?”

“This just goes to show you” continued Blakesfield, flipping her the bird. “That society has blamed the man-two of them, instead of seeing the truth and in this case, who exactly is to blame; the woman/widow standing behind the man.”

“All right, we’re going to start in on our closing arguments” stated Judge Songheimer. “I’m sick of this case, been going on way too long and I’ve got to get to the Casino Bungalow and Lights for some cocktails, gambling, showgirls and steak.”

There was a gasp from the audience and a woman stifled her cry.

“Quiet!” barked the judge. “I am tired of the emotional outbursts this case has garnered. Ms. Hartley, did you want to take it first?”

“Thank you Judge Songheimer. Karen Hartley, prosecution. “Your honor”, the prosecutor took a deep breath. “Everything was seemingly going smoothly at this super bowl party, hosted by Mrs. Davenport and the now deceased Harry Davenport. But the Broncos weren’t doing well.”

“I object!” shot the defense attorney Lubowitz., a heavy man in his mid-fifties.  “The strategies and game play of the Broncos have nothing to do with the particulars of this case!”


“Jim Lubowitz here, defense. Guests numbering at twenty-three individuals became somewhat restless, the game predictable and people turned to food. However, reportedly guests were being excruciatingly polite by consuming the terrible fare.”

“Objection!” cried Karen Hartley.

Mrs. Davenport bust out crying. “I’m a great cook! Harry loved my cooking and now he’s gone due to this party and he’ll never have my cooking again!”

The judge threw a pile of paper up in the air in exasperation, as two U.S. marshals walked up toward the widow menacingly.

“No, no,” said the judge. “I’ll allow it. She’s grieving. Continue Mrs. Hartley.”

“So as the food was allegedly none to inviting, two guests, the defendants in this case, Bill Mathers and Mel Seavers, made bogus claims of having vomited during this ill-fated Super Bowl party and further claimed that any and all attempts to call pizza delivery and any food delivery had been thwarted, one because Mather’s cell phone was on low battery and two because Seaver’s claimed all the lines were busy and was too lazy to use the Davenport’s desk top to simply order pizza online. Thus, they eventually turned to murder and ca-

“Your honor, I object.” Protested Lubowitz, standing up. “Bill Mather’s phone will show that he called two pizza delivery places all to no avail-

“Two pizza places!” objected the prosecutor. “That’s not much of an effort as to resort to murder! And what about the sandwich shops, Chinese food delivery, getting on the god damned internet and ordering food online. The defendants in this matter were just plain lazy and eventually murderous.”

“Objection!” cried Lubowitz. “The prosecutions calling my clients lazy is opinionated and does not belong in the courtroom. And for Mrs. Hartley to conclude that they murdered the victims and eventually resorted to-

“I object to Lubowitz objection. This whole case is opinionated. The fact that Lubowitz is defending these sick, twisted individuals-

“Mrs. Hartley”, boomed the judge, “This is the U.S. Justice system and everyone, no matter how heinous a crime he or she has committed, receives a fair and unbiased trial.”

“Yeah, right!” someone said sarcastically from the gallery and two guards and the bailiff walked toward the man menacingly. Mrs. Hartley scowled. Un-phased, the judge continued.

“At this juncture, I’m going to give the defense-Lubowitz a chance to highlight how this unfortunate super bowl party climaxed.”

There were sobs and wailing and the judge sadly noted that between the two lost men, there were five mourning children, three kids seated with Mrs. Davenport and two with Mrs. Branson.

“Go ahead” he said.

“Judge” began Lubowitz, “in the midst of a game gone stale, due to buyouts and unfair corporate pressure, the food at the party-much worse than merely stale…”

Mrs. Davenport gasped, there was muttering.

“No corporate buyouts. You’re just a sore loser.”

“Yeah, the Broncos lost, as were two lives at this party” another person blurted.

“Shut up!” 

The judge and guards looked around but couldn’t pin-point the men who’d spoken out.

“The food was worse than stale” Lubowitz, continued his defense tactics. “Mrs. Davenport needs to have her head examined due to her so-called cooking.”

There were shouts in the courtroom and Mrs. Davenport hollered and cried.

“One more time Mr. Lubowitz and I will be holding you in contempt of court.” 

“Going back to the appetizers Mrs. Davenport created and assembled for this super bowl party were so terrible, so noxious, that my clients did the only reasonable-human thing.”

Lubowitz let that hang in the air as he walked around the floor to address the packed courtroom. Mrs. Hartley rolled her eyes.

“Purely human nature. We are carnivores. Science has proved time and again that the human genome became more advanced, more intelligent with the advent and introduction of meat in our diets-

“Yeah!” cheered Mathers, while crying, wailing and screaming erupted from the courtroom. Somebody yelled out “Monsters!” and the judge shook his head in frustration. Lubowitz raised his voice to a near yell to be overheard.

“And my clients are men. They need good, solid meat. They were hungry. It was a super bowl party for the love of God, where honest to God, good, awesome, and tantalizing dishes are to be expected! But none of this fabled good food or any good eatins was to be found!”

Mrs. Davenport was the only one remaining being loud, as she cried miserably.

“Thus, after the initial try of Mrs. Davenports dishes and ensuing nausea, my two clients boycotted any further attempts at consuming this slime!”

“Your Honor” Mrs. Hartley put her hands on her hips.

“I’ll allow it. Get to the point Lubowitz.”

“Bill and Mel had had enough. They wished not to partake in the turtle soup, fish rump salad-

“Hey, that’s been passed down for generations!” yelled Mrs. Davenport. The judge gave her a warning glance, as Lubowitz continued listing the offensive dishes.

“Pea cocktail n’ pudding, slime n’ fudge tuna supreme! Any reasonable human being-rational man would have done what my clients did! It just goes to show you. I think everyone else at this super bowl party-in a game that was obviously rigged, were nuts NOT to join my clients in their final escapade to find sustenance at this party!”

“Oh God!” cried Mrs. Branson and Mrs. Davenport joined in. Three of the children sobbed as well.

“I object your honor,” said Mrs. Hartley. “You’ve already advised to keep personal feelings out of this. This is the legal profession. Our opinions are not to be interjected with the statement of facts.”

“Very well,” said the judge. “Close it up Mrs. Hartley.”

“What?” demanded Lubowitz. “We’re not going to have weeks and weeks and months of trials, meetings, mistrials and rising taxpayer costs?”

“You got that right Mister!” said the Judge. “Close it up Mrs. Hartley.” He then addressed both counsels.

“Can’t you see these people are suffering? The two widows and their children. And for the love of God, I’ve got to be at the casino soon for some games, cocktails, showgirls and steak.” 

A cry and a gasp from the courtroom and Mrs. Hartley took a deep breath, as if channeling her inner Buddha.

“At least he wants normal meat.” She said under her breath. “Judge, when the defendants in question-Bill Mathers and Mel Seavers got fed up with scrounging around in Mrs. Davenports cupboards and freezer, then failed to order any pizza or other food delivery, they finally decided to do the unthinkable…”

She let that hang in the air and walked around the floor, as the widows, children and many attendants in the packed courtroom sobbed and or stifled sorrowful cries. Satisfied that she was making an impact, the prosecutor continued.

“The unthinkable was that foul they allowed during the game” complained Lubowitz.”


“Overruled, that was pretty bad,” said the judge.

“Well,” continued Hartley, “Speaking of fowl” she said sarcastically, “that could have been another option for these monsters-Seavers and Mathers.”

“Hey!” cried Mathers.

“We’re men!” said Seavers.

The judge hit his sound block with the gavel and looked at his watch.

“You guys brought up fowl, so I will finish my train of thought” said Hartley and that is that chicken fast food were other options that you could have tried!”

There were echoes of agreement from the courtroom.

“I don’t like chicken!” complained Seavers.

“It’s not meaty enough!” shouted Mathers and there were several gasps.

“Mrs. Hartley!” boomed the judge.

“Let me make myself clear; what the defendants ended up doing in light of their hunger” she said this with scornful sarcasm, “was just a seemingly casual act for them. But, for me and you, Joe, or Jane Q. Public it would be unthinkable. But evidently not for Mr. Mathers and Mr. Seavers. As the super bowl party went on, the night had fallen. A couple party attendants had started a bonfire in the backyard.”

Cries and shouts came from the courtroom, but particularly now from the Davenport’s three children, two boys and one pre-teen girl.  Sadly, both the widows began to wail. Judge Songheimer rested his face in his hands upon his desk in frustration.

Un-ruffled, Mrs. Hartley continued. “And then, Mathers and Seavers, having over the hours, counted on the victims-Harry Davenport and John Branson’, being liquored up, steered the men to the backyard.”

Gasps and the usual round of crying and shouts erupted from the courtroom.

“These monsters each took hold of one victim and walked them to the bonfire. Then they lied and told the two fire starters working the blooming bonfire, that the Broncos were suddenly getting the upper hand-in order to get any witnesses out of the way. Mathers and Seavers then laid the men down, close-too closely to the fire in order to baste them.”

“Oh God!” cried Mrs. Davenport. “I promise to go to cooking school!”

“As the drunken men stirred in their slumber, the defendants began to kick them into the fire to quiet and still them.”

There was more sobbing and a sad uproar from the courtroom.

The two fledgling cannibals then completed the roasting. They added salt, pepper, and a little basil. And voila, the men were finished. I mean, you know, in many ways; killed, demised, murdered and ready to be eaten-cannibalized. And that, folks is the story, I mean, the harsh truth of the case.”

The silence that followed felt like a bomb about to drop. Then Mrs. Hartley added another tidbit.

“I’ll never let myself get that hungry-ever.”

Wailing and screaming erupted for the umpteenth time in the courtroom and the judge angrily shook his head at Mrs. Hartley. That last bit had been lacking in professionalism. The same man that had earlier attacked the defendants pounced back a top of them, giving them a grand pummeling with guards running up to the table to intervene. People got out of their seats and screamed. It was a madhouse.

“Remind me to never attend a super bowl party again” said the judge to his in-court clerk. “You just never know when the odds are against you.”

The End.

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