Randomique & The Lawyer: The Vengeance

People tend to complain my posts are too heavy, probably because they are.

One of the readers even asked me if I was happy with my life and it sounded like he was about to give me the number for the Suicide Hot Line.

Well, first of all, yes I am content with my life, thank you for your interest. And second of all, a lot of you don’t realize that when I don’t write profound thoughts to an imaginary audience I lead a real life, in which I act like a 10 years old 90% of the time.

I throw tantrums, I play pranks, I do silly little dances in my cubicle and one of my favorite ways of spending my lunch hour is people watching.

Oooh, Randomique, you lead such an exciting life!- you might say, sarcastically. But before you judge, think about this: would you be reading this blog if YOU were leading exciting lives? No, I didn’t think so.

And as a matter of fact, people watching can be very fun.

The other day I saw a tall businessman on a bicycle, he had thick square glasses – the type serial rapists have on “Wanted” ads – and he was eating a sandwich with one hand and awkwardly maneuvering the bike with the other. He also had this demented smile on him (since he was clearly too busy to eat tuna on regular days and this was an exception) and all the while he had mayo dripping on his tie and chin.

A smiling businessman on a bike might not seem amusing to everyone but my perverted mind works in such mysterious ways that the white, dripping mayonnaise around his lips made it so much more comically enticing; I couldn’t help but let my imagination run a marathon and I eventually started giggling like the 10-year-old girl I emotionally am.

I couldn’t help but laugh out loud as he rolled by like a fat kid on Christmas who got a giant cake made from… tuna. And since I have really bad social skills (as you can tell) I didn’t bother pretending the source of my amusement was anything other than the Tuna eating biker. I might have even pointed and yelled “GEE, LOOK AT THE UGLY DUDE ON THE BIKE!”.

Okay, so I didn’t yell and point, but I did laugh like a hyena in heat. The skittles in my lap rattled and spread on the ground and people looked around wondering if someone let a Capuchin monkey lose.

Alright, since we’ve grown rather fond of this businessman we might as well make it personal and call him… Harold!

Well, Harold threw an angry look at me and even twisted his neck to look behind him in search of the maniacal laughter.

Uh-oh, a lawyer!*

* The Lawyer is an angry beast from the underworld whose behavioral patterns often involve lecturing others grandeloquently about their insignificant role in society when compared to those defending murderers and sex offenders in the court of law. They are self-righteous, obnoxious and wear funny looking ties (often stained with mayo as it appears). They are likely bitter about the fact they’ve spent 8 years of their life in University, without having a social life and feel those who dress casually should pay for it with their brain cells.

I knew he was going to turn around and lecture me because it happened before. Lawyers have another favorite snack for lunch and it appears to be me. They lecture me in lines to the movies, at bus stations, at supermarkets (when I used to work in one) and in this case, when I laugh at them.

So Harold turns with a vengeance, his stained tie blowing in the wind like an antenna detecting 21-year-old, billing clerks. I knew he’s going to pull the Cop routine, where he self-importantly stops inches from my face and takes his time, with a grave demeanor, to get off the bike as he prepares to lecture me about working in McDonald’s for the rest of my life (even though I rarely eat there let alone work there). Lawyers assume that anyone who doesn’t wear a tie is likely to work for McDonald’s and according to this logic the entire corporate world is divided into law officials and McDonald’s workers.

He turns with a screech and does a little spin around the fountain, all the while staring me down with his angry, beady eyes. People snicker. I look like a puppy about to get executed. The closer he gets to the bench I’m lunching on the wider his sex offender smile gets.

Inches away from me he… begins to waddle. Still maneuvering one handedly he is unable to stabilize the bike; he looks on the ground on my army of darkness – the colorful skittles, viciously scattered around my bench, protecting me from the wrath of lawyers.

The next happens rather fast so I’ll spare you melodramatic description.

He looks down. He looks up. He is confused. He looks at me. I grin. He looks at his sandwich: should he throw it and spare himself embarrassment? No, it’s too darn good. He waddles again, afraid he’ll fall to the left, he leans to the right. And he falls like a beached fish who got a lethal heart-attack.

There is a momentary silence as all the lunching employees from the neighboring office buildings, gathered in little hierarchal groups stop their chatter and stare. The only sounds heard are that of chirping birds, intermittently passing cars and the water fountain.

I bite my lip down.

I grin.

I frown.

I smile widely, a smile full of teeth.

And I burst with my loud childish laughter for the next five minutes.

Suddenly aware of Harold scowling on the ground, I collect my belongings and I rise from the bench completely forgetting about the skittles in my lap (once again) and let them fall and scatter around Harold who’s still lying intertwined with his bike.

Feeling the hostility rise from the ground like poisonous gas I hasten my steps, but before I get too far I turn to Harold and I ask nonchalantly and probably insensitivity: “are you a lawyer?”

He just stares at me with immense hate and I take it as ‘yes’.

It happened a week ago and I haven’t seen Harold again even though I take my lunch on the same bench pretty much every day. I wonder if he’s too embarrassed to come back or if he even works around that park.

But sometimes I like to imagine, maybe out of masochism… I like to imagine and shudder at the possibility that somewhere, Harold is waiting for us to cross paths; with his glasses illuminated by a rusty street light, his horrible smile, bearing yellowish crowded teeth and his chin, dripping with mayo he is waiting for me in a dark, abandoned alley.

Boo.

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4 Responses to “Randomique & The Lawyer: The Vengeance”

  1. I liked this blog so much I became a follower so I’ll be visiting again! Please check out my blog in return at http://dimmusacio.blogspot.com/

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  2. Iceskater Says:

    Great post. People watching rocks. Ive always said it was the best form of entertainment (and its free!). The people I watch never seem to be as interesting as your Lawyer though 🙂

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