It was morning, and Jean, the receptionist for the law firm of O’Ryan and Greenblatt, unlocked the office door and then went to her computer. As she turned on her computer a man wearing a turban entered the office.
“May I help you, sir?”
“Yes, you may. I am Mahahahehe, a practitioner of Yoga.”
“Really? What do you do when you practice Yoga?”
“When I practice Yoga, my physical body does nothing.”
“How can you do nothing?”
“I will show you,” he said, sat on the floor in the lotus position and closed his eyes. After a moment he opened his eyes and stood. “There, you see?”
“You saw a body sitting on the floor, but you did not see me traveling to the ends of the earth.”
Karen came out of her office and put some papers on Jean’s desk. She stood back and stared at Mahahahehe for a moment. “By any chance, are you a Yogi?”
“Yes, enlightened American Lady.”
“Karen, this is Mr. Mahaheho.”
“Not Mahaheho. I am Mahahahehe. Mahaheho is a distant cousin.”
They bow to each other. “It’s so exciting to meet a real Yogi. Jean, this man knows how to do nothing, and doing nothing is very difficult. I tried to do nothing, but I always ended up doing something. But once you learn how to do nothing, you can travel to the ends of the earth without moving a muscle.”
“American lady is correct. Doing nothing requires great concentration, Concentrating is difficult for Americans. I blame video games, television, and tight pants for this problem.”
“How can I help you, Mr. Mahahahehe?”
“Well, a fellow Yogi, Mo, has absconded with my bed, and I would like you to find him so that I can get my bed back.”
“Actually, this is a matter for the police, not a law firm. Did you report the theft to the police?”
“No, I did not. I am afraid that the police will say I’m a weirdo and put me in the slimmer.”
“That’s slammer,” Jean said.
“That’s what I said. The slimmer.”
“Why don’t you just buy another bed?” Karen asked.
“I have looked, but I cannot fine a store that sells a bed of nails.”
“Nails? You sleep on nails,” Jean asked incredulously.
“Oh, yes, and since Mo took my bed of nails, I have had to sleep on the floor, which is very hard. A yogi without his bed of nails is like and Abbot without a Costello, bugs without a bunny, a Mickey without a…”
“Okay, Mr. Mahahahehe, we get the point,” Karen said.
“Aha, American lady makes pin.”
“That’s pun,” Jean said.
“That’s what I said, pin.”
“Doesn’t it hurt when you sleep on nails?” Jean asked.
“Of course, it hurts, but I am a Yogi. In Yogi School we learn to ignore pain, but in Yogi School we did not learn to sleep on hard floors,” he groaned, put his hands at the small of his back, leaned back and groaned. “My back is killing me.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Mahahahehe, but we can’t help you,” Karen said sympathetically.
“Well, then, I shall be on my way. You have been very kind, American ladies,” he said, bowed, and left.
The End: Episode One
The Law Offices of O’Ryan and Greenblatt
It was early afternoon when a five-foot-tall woman about 70, who was carrying a shopping bag, entered the office. She spoke with a Yiddish accent. “Hello?”
“Hello. May I help you?”
“Yes, dear, I’m Mrs. Liederkenstenflam.”
“My name is Jean,” she said, went to Mrs. Liederkenstenflam, and led her to chairs. “Let’s sit down, Mrs. Liederkenstenflam.”
“Thank you, dahling, I was tired. You’re such a nice girl. Here,” she said, took a container, spoon, and napkin out of her shopping bag, opened it, and gave it to Jean. “Have some nice chign soup. It’s Jewish penicillin. It will fix all your problems,” she said and tried to feed her.
Jean gently held her hand. “Thank you, Mrs. Liederkenstenflam, but I’m not hungry. I ate a big lunch.”
“Okay, dahling,” she said and put everything back in her bag.
“Now, how can we help you?”
“I need a lawyer, a good lawyer.”
“You’ve come to the right place. The firm of O’Ryan and Greenblatt is one of the best law firms in the city.”
“Okay. I’ll take Mr. Greenblatt.”
“I’m sorry Mrs. Liederkenstenflam, Mr. Greenblatt isn’t taking any cases, but his daughter Karen is taking cases.”
“Okay, I’ll take Karen, but before you call her, tell me how much I have to pay.”
An office door opens, and a man comes out. He goes to the coffee pot and holds it up. “It’s empty. Again, it’s empty,” he said, put his hand on his hip and stamped his foot. Jean and Mrs. Liederkenstenflam watched him. “Gosh darn. Darn. How is a great lawyer supposed to be great if there’s no coffee?”
“So, make some coffee,” Jean said.
“But that’s your job,” he whined. “I do lawyer things and you make coffee. That’s the way it’s supposed to be,” he complained, stamped his foot and wiggled to his office.
“D, boichick, I think he needs some chign soup. Yeah?”
“He needs something.”
Now, I was asking how much I have to pay.”
“You don’t have to pay anything up front if the attorney decides to take your case. If the attorney loses, you don’t pay anything. If the attorney wins, you pay just one third.”
“Oy, how terrible. How can you do such a thing? I think I need a doctor.”
“What’s wrong, Mrs. Liederkenstenflam?”
“Well, you see, my great aunt died, may her soul rest in peace, and she left me her little doggie in her will, but my sister took d’ little doggie, and I want Karen should make my sister give back d’ liddle doggie, but how could I give you one third of a little doggie? What would you do with just a part of a liddle doggie? How could d’ liddle doggie get along widout d’ part you took? D’ poor liddle doggie needs all his parts. After all.”
“You don’t understand, Mrs. Liederkenstenflam. The cases we take involve financial settlement. Our fee would be in dollars. You need to take your case to a small claims court.”
“In a small claims court, they won’t take a part of my liddle doggie?”
“No, they won’t. The judge will listen to both sides and then decide who should get the dog, the whole dog.”
“I’ll go to that court. What a relief. I wouldn’t want Pedro
Garcia Juan Pedillo De Santa Maria cut up into liddle pieces. Thank you, dahling. Say hello to Karen for me,” she said and left.
Karen came out of her office as Mrs. Liederkenstenflam left.
“Jean, did I hear that woman mention my name?”
“Do I know her?”
“Does she know me?”
“Then how did my name get into the conversation?”
Don Flynn came out of his office, went to Jean’s desk and listened.
“She wanted a lawyer to get her doggie from her sister, and she thought you were going to cut a third of her doggie off and keep it for payment,” Jean said.
“Karen, how could you threaten a client?” Don said chastising. Why would you take a third of a dog? What a thought. That’s a leg and a…yuck. That’s disgusting.”
Vera came out of her office, went to the group, and listened. “Karen, you were going to cut off a dog’s leg? How could you do that?”
“I wasn’t going to cut off a dog’s leg. Jean would you please explain.”
“Okay,” she said, and told the story. “So she thought Karen was going to take a third of the dog for payment.”
Frank came to the desk and listened to the story. “Karen, that’s despicable. Besides, what would the firm do with part of a dog? Yuck.”
“Karen, you know there are laws protecting animals from abuse, don’t you?” Don said. “You could cut off a person’s leg and get away with it, but not a dog. A jury would hang you in a minute.”
Harry came out of his office and listened.
“My God, I never said I would cut off a dog’s leg. This is crazy.”
“What’s crazy?” Harry asked.
“Karen threatened to kill an old lady if she didn’t pay her bill,” Don said.
“I didn’t threaten to kill anybody or anything. This conversation is crazy,” Karen yelled. “You’re all crazy she growled and hurried to her office.
“Karen, don’t forget the staff meeting this afternoon with your father,” Jean called to Karen.
“So, what’s this meeting about?” Don asked.
“Money,” Vera said. We're sliding perilously close to red ink. Mr. Greenblatt has a plan to get us back to the black. I hope it's a good plan. Eating and paying rent have become a habit.”
The End of Episode Two
Law Offices of O’Ryan and Greenblatt
At the staff meeting, Mr. Greenblatt addressed his staff. “Folks,
unfortunately, O’Ryan and Greenblatt is operating in the red. In order to get back on our feet, I’ve decided to use a talent agency. They will hire Rock Lockwood, the soap opera actor, to be to be our spokesperson. Irene Young from the agency and Lockwood will be here soon. Karen, I’d like you to be my eyes and ears. Let’s hope this works,” he said and all returned to their offices. On the way to her office, Karen stopped at Jean’s desk.
“Jean, please call me when Lockwood arrives,” she said and left.
An hour later, the office door opened and two people entered. One was Irene Young and the other was Rock Lockwood, a handsome soap opera actor about 30 years old. He wore his overcoat over his shoulders and a wide-brimmed had tilted to one side. They went to Jean’s desk.
“May I help you?” Jean asked.
“Yes. I'm Irene Young and this is Rock Lockwood. I'm from the King, Clayton, Bernstien, Batton, Mervin, Morgan, Fillmore, Furry talent agency. I have an appointment with Mr. Greenblatt.”
“Would you repeat those names? King, Benson, Bitten, and something furry.”
“Yes,” Irene said, spoke slowly, and Jean wrote. “I'm Irene Young from the King, Clayton, Bernstien, Batton, Mervin, Morgan, Fillmore, Furry talent agency. I have an appointment with Mr. Greenblatt.”
“Fine. Just one moment. I’ll call him,” Jean said, picked up the phone, and pressed a button. “Mr. Greenblatt, Irene Young from the King, Clayton, Bernstien, Batton, Mervin, Morgan, Fillmore, Furry talent agency is here to see you. Okay, sir, I’ll tell her. Ms. Young, he'll be right with you. Please sit down and make yourselves comfortable,” she said and returned to her computer.
“Bobby came out of his office, went to the coffee pot, and held it up. Jean, the coffee pot is...” he said, saw Rock and walked like a zombie to him. “You’re Lock Rockwood, I mean Rock Lockwood. It’s really you. Oh, be still my heart. I’m your biggest fan,” he swooned and inched closer to Rock, who looked terrified. “I know everything about you. I know why you left Eloise at the altar. She was a tramp. And Shawna doesn’t deserve you, the tramp.” Rock hurried behind Irene as Bobby tried to get to Rock.
Jean picked up the phone. “Mr. Greenblatt, come quick. Bobby is loose.”
Mr. Greenblatt rushed out of his office and stepped between Bobby and Rock. “Bobby, go back to your office,” he ordered and Bobby sulked away. “I’m terribly sorry, Ms. Young. I meant to give Bobby the day off, but I forgot.”
Rock looked stunned. “Who was that? I’ve never been married. And who are Eloise and Shawna?”
“Rock. Think. You’re married on your soap opera, and the others are characters on your soap opera,” Irene said.
“Oh, yeah,” Rock said seeming confused.
“Let’s go into the conference room. You’ll have plenty of room to work there. My daughter, Karen, will be right in. She’ll help you anyway she can. Make yourselves comfortable,” he said, left, and told Jean to tell Karen that Lockwood was in the conference room.”
Jean phoned Karen, who hurried out. Don’t forget to ask him for his autograph,” she reminded Karen as she hurried to the conference room.
Lockwood stood. “Well, hello, there. I’m Rock Lockwood, the famous actor who is adored by millions. Would you like my autograph?”
Irene looked disgusted.
“Yes, of course, I’d love to have your autograph, Mr. Rockwood.”
“Yes, of course.”
Rock takes out a gold-trimmed, leather-bound notebook from his pocket. “To?”
“I think one will be enough.”
“I mean to whom should I write my autograph?”
“Uh, how about to me?”
“I’ll need a name.”
“You have a name already.”
“I need your name if I’m going to write an autograph to you.”
“Of course. My name is Karen.”
He wrote and gave her the paper. She folded it and put it in her skirt pocket. “I’ll cherish this forever. Believe me. I’ll put it in a place in my office that’s made just for your autograph,” she said and went to Irene. “Ms. Young, I’m Karen Greenblatt. I’m happy to meet you,” she said and they shook hands. “My father told me to help you anyway I can.”
“Okay. Suppose we run through each commercial and you tell me if it’s what you want. Rock, read the first commercial,” Irene ordered.
Rock holds the script, slowly leans forward and yells. “If you have a legal…”
Karen jumps back.
“Rock, what are you doing? We want to bring people in not scare them away,” Jean said admonishingly.
“I was just projecting.”
“Rock. You’re not doing Hamlet in front of a live audience. You’re doing a TV commercial. Now, try it again.”
Rock slowly leaned forward so that he was a few inches from Karen, and growled. “Are you a victim? Are you letting the world step all over you? Are you…”
Karen grimaced. Irene appeared to be in pain.
“Rock. This is not revenge of the werewolf. You have to sound sympathetic, like you’re talking to an old friend.”
“I see. Sympathetic. An old friend. I think I have it.” Rock leaned back in his chair, looked at Karen, smiled broadly, and grinned as he read. “Hi, there, this is your old, sympathetic friend…”
“Cut, cut, cut. Rock. Why are you grinning? This is serious and when you are discussing a serious matter you don’t have a stupid grin on your face.”
“Uh, if you’ll excuse me, there’s something I have to take care of,” Karen said, left and hurried to Mr. Greenblatt’s office. She stopped at Jean’s desk on the way.
“How’s it going, Karen?”
“This Rock Wormwood is and idiot. If he has a brain, then it’s as flat as a pancake because he’s sitting on it. If my father let’s this agency use this hack, then we’re doomed. I have to warn my father,” she said and hurried into his office. After a few minutes, he and Karen hurry to the conference room.
“Karen, why don’t you show Mr. Lockwood around while I speak with Irene.”
Karen’s first stop was Jean’s desk. “Mr. Lockwood, this is Jean, our gal Friday.”
“You look familiar, Jean. Have we met before?”
“Uh, no, we haven’t.”
“Well, then, would you like my autograph?”
“As a matter of fact, it is in my nature to avoid cluttering my life with unimportant, trivial affectations that do not serve to better the lot of mankind as a whole.”
He stares blankly at Jean for a few moments. “Oh, yes, I can relate to that. A person should be able to practice his or her religion as she or he wishes. Absolutely. So, would you like my autograph?”
“Uh, Mr. Lockwood, if you come with me I’ll show you around the office.”
“As you can see, each attorney has his or her own office.”
“I see. So, what kind of business do you run here?”
“Did you just ask me what kind of business we run here?”
“Yeah. Just curious.”
“Rock. This is a law firm. We practice law. That’s why we have lawyers working here.”
“Uh, huh. Lawyers work here.”
“That’s right. I would say much of our business involves suits of one kind or another.”
“Suits? I just bought two new suits. One is double-breasted. It makes me look muscular. Boy, if I had known you sell suits, well, next time.”
“Mr. Lockwood, did I hear you say you’re going to come here to buy your suits?” Jean asked.
“Yeah, I did.”
“What size suit do you wear?”
“I wear a 42 long. Do you carry that size?”
“A 42 long law suit. That’s a popular size law suit size. I think we can work something out,” Karen said with a serious expression on her face.
“That’d be great,” he said smiling.
“Shall we continue?”
“We also specialize in tax law.”
“Oh, yeah, taxes. I don’t bother with taxes. I tell my friends that by not paying taxes you get to keep all your money, but they don’t listen to me. They keep paying taxes. Do you pay taxes?”
“Yes, I do.”
“I have a feeling that taxes go to poor people. Personally, I don’t believe in being poor.”
Mr. Greenblatt and Irene came out of the conference room. “Come on, Rock, it’s time to go. Wait in the car. Well, Mr. Greenblatt, I’m sorry we couldn’t help you. Maybe next time,” she said, they shook hands, and she left.
“Maybe a talent agency wasn’t such a good idea after all,” he said,
and he and Karen went to their offices.
The End: Episode Three