conversations with smoot by worm 4

In which I discuss legal strategy with Fred Smoot on the eve of his trial: (April, 2006)

In which I discuss legal strategy with Fred Smoot on the eve of his trial.

Me: I'm telling you, Fred, firing your lawyer isn't a good idea. Sure, my job title is "paralegal," but I have no legal training, and I'm definitely not licensed to practice law.

Smoot: Man, that don't mean nothin. I ain't licensed to play cornerback, but come Sunday, 75% of the Earth is covered by water, and the other 25%...

Me: Yeah, Fred, we've heard it before. Water 75%, Smoot 25%. Christ, why don't you just get t-shirts made?

Smoot: T-shirts? That ain't a bad idea...

Me: Focus. Now, I read the charges and looked at the evidence. But why don't you tell me about what happened. Maybe give me something to work with.

Smoot: OK. So I'm stretched out on the deck chair, drink in my left hand, personal massager in my right...

Me: "Personal massager"? Where did that come from?

Smoot: Well, I bruised my thigh pretty bad in the New Orleans game and the trainers told me to keep it pressed against my leg for a few hours a day to keep the muscles loose.

Me: You're saying that the trainers gave you an 22 inch-long, pink, two-headed, 10 speed "personal massager" with "Girl Power" stenciled on the side?

Smoot: Yeah, that's right.

Me: Proceed.

Smoot: So I'm sittin there and the deck is wet from the waves and people spilling drinks and all, and one of the ladies walks by and slips on the puddle in front of me and falls...

Me: Wait a minute. She falls right on the end of the massager?

Smoot: That's right.

Me: And seven seconds later, another lady slips on the same puddle and falls on the other end?

Smoot: Exactly.

Me: And they both stayed there for 27 minutes?

Smoot: Well... some ladies just take longer to get off than others. Hehehe.

Me: You know, I think the Slippery When Wet defense just might work. We could take some measurements of the deck chair, get some diagrams put together for evidence. I think you've got a shot at an acquittal.

Smoot: Well, I was actually thinkin of a live demonstration.

Me: I'm not so sure about that...

Smoot: Jury's got five married men and a lady who I'm pretty sure is playing for the other team.

Me: Live demonstration it is. But where are we gonna find two ladies willing to assist with the re-enactment?

Smoot: Here, use my cell phone. Preprogrammed speed dial, #2.

Me: OK... wait, that's my number!

Smoot: Hehehe, just messin with ya. Try #3.

Me: Wow, you put me on your speed dial ahead of guaranteed group sex. I'm touched.

Smoot: Whadda I tell ya, Jay? You da man!.

Me: It's ringing... I've got the machine.

Smoot: Here, gimme that... (beep) BITCH I DIDN'T PAY FOR THAT ABORTION FOR YOU TO PRETEND YOU AIN'T HOME WHEN I CALL! NOW GET THAT WART COVERED ASS OVER HERE RIGHT NOW AND BRING THAT SKANK FRIEND OF YOURS OR I'M CUTTIN YOU OFF! AND I AIN'T TALKING ABOUT THAT GIRL WITH THE A-CUPS AND THE COLD SORES! I'M TALKIN BOUT THE CLEAN BITCH WITH THE BIG TITTIES! YOU GOT 10 MINUTES OR YOU'RE DEAD BITCH! YA HEAR ME? YA DEAD! Smoot out. (click) Uh, yeah... They'll be here in 10 minutes.

Me: Sweet. So what's #1 on your speed dial?

Smoot: Hehehehe.