Turnip Blood

I was sitting in my t-shirt and jeans at the breakfast table about 7 :15 a.m. on a weekday. On the other side of the sliding glass door appears a county sheriff's deputy. Not someone I expected at my remote residence. Kinda freaked me out.
He hands me a summons for small claims court and asks if I have any questions.
I look at the name of the plaintiff and sigh knowingly. "No questions," I say, waiving the deputy on.
The crabby old woman filing against me wants her money back from a book I wrote about her life. I was the ghost writer; thankfully, I don't have my name on it. She makes herself look like a victim throughout her book. Her daughter, a main subject in her book, had some other things to say that were... well, less than complimentary about her side of the story.
Anyway, the crabby old woman claims I didn't write enough pages. Honestly, who says, "Oh, I would have read your book, but it wasn't long enough?" I mean, come on, seriously!
In all reality, I asked her repeatedly what she wanted to include that I hadn't already written to make the length of the book satisfactory, and all she came up with was, "I already gave you everything. You didn't read what notes I gave you."
I assured her I did. Her scrambled notes left little to work with. At any rate, she never would come out and say what she wanted me to add. I would have gladly added anything she'd requested. It's HER book.
Now she wants her money back. And, she wants to sue my associate who designed her book after she agreed to everything and paid him also.
Some people will do anything for a refund. My book designer friend investigated her online and found five pages of small claims lawsuits she's filed. Hmmm...
Anyway, she filed the suit in her county (nowhere near mine) and I and my lawyer drafted a letter to the court saying she should have filed in my county because that's what the paperwork on small claims procedure stated.
The paperwork also stated small claims cannot garnish wages unless there is an employer, even if the plaintiff is granted a "victory". I have no money and no job. You can't squeeze blood out of a turnip. Ironically, she came to my house in her Mercedes the first time and in her Lexus the second time for interviews. I have a fading Mitsubishi with cracked windshield with more than 261,000 miles.
Better sue a rich guy next time!