Friday, November 4, 2011
The Mysterious Case of the Logy Lawyer
Actually, that murder trial isn't your "first big trial this morning," Don. Your first big trial is constipation. And that is why you are "dejected." That is why you are logy and headachy. No mysterious crime here, unless it involves not eating your bran flakes.
Happily, Don's wife Ellen knows just what to do. She doesn't have time to make some swell bran muffins, so it's laxative time! Exhibit A: one gigantic glass of Sal Hepatica, full of magical mineral salts that argue eloquently with the GI tract - and win.
The verdict? It worked. We can't give you a time frame, Your Honor, because - well, we just can't. We plead the Fifth on that one. But we can tell you this: three hours later, Dejected Don was able to smile prettily for the jury.*
That's some jury, by the way. In the front row there's a polka-dotted grandma wearing some brains on her hat, next to a folded-arm guy who thinks he's in a nightclub listening to the warm-up comic. And in the back row: a lacquer-faced department store mannequin and a dastardly mustachio'd fellow who really couldn't spare the time away from his job, which is tying damsels to train tracks. He's probably also the Bad Guy, too. So how did he manage to get on the jury? He got a notice in the mail, that's how! And when you get that notice in the mail, you have to show up.
The lawyers have to show up, too. They can't loll around in bed complaining about euphemistic headaches and "feeling logy." Although come to think of it, that jury also looks pretty logy. The judge needs to call a recess and get everyone a round of Sal Hepatica. They can ask Ellen for some - she probably brought a couple of extra bottles, just to make sure.