And How
The NY Post has come up with another classic front page:
Here’s an encouraging headline, especially for the elderly, from foxnews.com: “Puzzles, card games later in life may delay Alzheimer’s onset by five years.”
Here’s an amusing FN headline: “Retailer stuck with 10,000 misspelled ‘Free Brittany’ shirts amid #FreeBritney movement.”
I was visited by another story idea, the second in the past two weeks. And How is another sort of rant on a favorite target of satirists — lawyers. I adapted the firm’s name from a Three Stooges short, Heavenly Daze, in which Moe and Larry deal with a crooked attorney named “I. Fleecem.” There is a Wiki page devoted to “Dewey, Cheatem & Howe,” which has been used by Johnny Carson and Robin Williams, and in TV shows such as Friends, Prison Break and Gilmore Girls. I don’t know what I’ll do with the piece beyond today’s blog. I’ll simply add it to the file holding Red Carpet. Together they might not add up to five pages. The new one is approximately one page. Here’s the world premiere of And How:
It was quiet in the office of Wie, Fleesom & Howe. Their secretary had gone to lunch. The desks were all in the main room, which had recently been renovated in a cool contemporary style. A small conference room was beside the bathroom.
“Sometimes I think the phone is never gonna ring again,” said Wie, a small middle age man wringing his hands.
“Less caffeine, my friend,” said Howe, the senior partner, folded hands resting on his abundant girth.
“We may finally have run out of companies to sue,” said Fleesom, the youngest of the three.
“Nonsense. Researchers will find something that may have given somebody cancer.”
Wie hung his head. “Mesothelioma seems to be the gift that has stopped giving, even after all those ads telling smokers they’re eligible for payouts too.”
“Word’ll get around, you’ll see,” said Howe. “Those spots’ll be well worth it. Never underestimate the urge of some people to cash in.”
“If only there was a way to sue the sun,” said Fleesom wistfully. “Think of all skin cancer patients that’d line up.”
Howe leaned forward, elbows on his desk, thumbs twiddling.
“I was joking, boss. Who would we go after — God?”
“The government’d be our best bet,” said Wie — “failure to protect the populace.”
“And all they would have to do is crank up the printing press to pay the bills.” said Fleesom, intrigued. “What’s a few billion in a deficit of twenty-three-trillion-plus?”
Wie grunted and waved a hand in frustration. “It would be a tough sell given all the PSA’s about sun block.”
“We’ve done more with less,” said Howe. “This definitely needs more deliberation.”
The front door opened and an attractive middle age woman entered, paused and eyed the men. “Glad to see the wake’s over.”
“Hey, Jean,” said Wie, “what d’you think about suing the sun for giving people cancer?”
“Go for it. I want a bigger bonus this year.”
The men laughed.
The phone rang. Jean picked up. “Wie, Fleesom and Howe.”
The heat and humidity didn’t bother me today, maybe because I was in the shade at least 90% of the time. There seems to be more of it at the prime book shop location at present as the Earth makes its journey around the sun. My thanks to the kind folks who donated, swapped and bought books. A red-haired middle age woman purchased three cook books, and Wolf took home DVDs of Woody Allen’s Love and Death (1975) and Sofia Coppola’s Lost in Translation (2003). As I was closing shop, local quipster Ira whipped out his mini keyboard and played bits of popular music, starting with Nino Rota’s Love Theme from the Godfather, and including Albert Von Tizler’s Take Me Out to the Ball Game, Ruth Roberts’ Meet the Mets, Bart Howard’s Fly Me to the Moon, and George M. Cohan’s Yankee Doodle Dandy.
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