My Attorney Is On Very Thin Ice

I really need a drink. My lead attorney, Buzz Goldenrod, just called to update me on one of the many legal proceedings in which I’m currently embroiled, and the news was anything but good.

“Oz? Buzz. Listen. About this Batukhang Chuluun situation…”


“Your former houseboy.”

“Oh, you mean Kang.”

“Right, whatever. Look, I think we can settle with him.”

“Really,” I said warily. I try to avoid settlements whenever possible, as they’re always seen as a tacit admission of guilt. Just ask Michael Jackson’s menagerie of doe-eyed young boys if you don’t believe me. “And how much are his attorneys asking for in terms of a ‘settlement,’ hmm?”

“Well… nothing. No monetary sum. Beyond his legal fees, at least.”

“Huh. I have to admit, I’m surprised at how reasonable that sounds. What’s the catch?”

There was a brief period of near-silence on his end, during which I could’ve sworn I heard faint snorting sounds.

“Umm… sniff sniff… yes. There is a small catch.”

“I knew it. Wait.”


“Are you doing cocaine?”

More snorting sounds, followed by: “Don’t be ridiculous. I never touch that stuff.”

“Okay. But it really sounds like you’re doing cocaine.”

“Listen… sniff sniff. I have allergies. Do you want to hear the catch, or do you just want to insult my character?”

“Fine. What’s the catch?”

“The catch is, they’re willing to drop all charges if…”

I waited until the pause had become more than uncomfortable. “If what?”

“If… hold on.”

“Sweet Jesus, man. Pull yourself together.”

“Sorry, nose bleed. Oh, right: if you’re willing to adopt Chuluun and make him your primary heir.”


“What what?”

“Are you out of your mind?”

“Hey, don’t blame me — they’re the ones who came up with the offer. Though I would advise that it’ll probably be cheaper and easier in the long run. I’ve seen the evidence they have against you, and it’s not pretty.”

“Jesus Christ,” I said. Talk about being stuck between a rock and a hard place. Strangely, it occurred to me that this is how the girls at Pete’s Poontang Emporium must feel when they realize they need to sleep with me to keep their job. “How long do we have to give them a decision?”

“End of the week. Sniff.”

“Fine. I’ll call you Thursday night. And Buzz?”


“Much more poor legal advice like this and I’ll be looking for new representation!”

“Yeah, good luck with all that. Talk to you later.”

Goddamn that Goldenrod. And goddamn Kang! Oh well, no sense in worrying about it now. Especially given that happy hour just started at Boobs-a-Poppin’, and there’s no better way to turn a frown upside down than by burying it in a pair of stripper hooters. I’ll let you know how it turns out.

Categories: Dating, Drugs, Idiots, Legal, Servants

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