Portrait of a Small Law Firm 1988 Chapter Three: Miles of Files

We were back in the third floor bathroom 🚽. I was reading the City Paper: perverted want ads, News of the Weird, Work is Hell cartoon.

“So yesterday, Jaan, a lot of strange things happened. But it’s why I want to quit the law. Here’s why: Family Law – I’m in family court on a motion. I’m representing a lady with an abusive husband. We’re sitting on a bench outside motions court. Then mean stupid husband comes up starts yelling at the wife. I ask him to stay away. He says ‘listen you faggot fuck jagoff! I’ll kick your ass. He’s a big dude, but I’m bigger. He grabs for the wife, I tackle him by the waist and whiplash his head off the concrete floor. He is knocked the f*ck out. It felt so good. The Sheriff’s deputies run in and take him to the hoosegow.

Photo by Cameron Casey on Pexels.com

Then I go it court. It’s Judge Schloimo bar-Lev Bergerboim. He’s an anus. Ivy League education. So he reads my motion. He starts yelling at me. Tells me those types of motions are a waste of time. He will not let me talk. My client is upset. So I raise my hand. ’Your honor! The Sixth Amendment!’ Judge says: this is family motions court! Sixth Amendment?’ ’Yes your Honor! My client paid me to speak and you won’t let me speak!’ ’One more word Bjorn and you get 72 hours for contempt!’


Shroake Bjorn

“That’s a crazy morning!”

I shroake.

“It gets worse…”

I saw more shitty anus flakes on the floor. It was disgusting.

“Do tell. I have time.”

I shroake.

“Why do you always bring a sport bag to the bathroom? Did you have a colostomy?”

Shroake Bjorn.

“No, it’s my adult diaper bag for my massive adult diapers. Near miss with an artillery shell while clearing tank obstacles. Since then, I have no bladder or bowel control. I think it’s brain damage. It really helps with dating. Girls love it.”

I shroake.

“There is no shame is wearing a gigantic adult diaper. Or maybe there is. You are a third-rate shitty war hero. So I have this client. He’s a black man, a black man a black man. He has to go to court for fighting with a female cop. She beat his ass. I ask if he has a suit? No suit. Button down shirt? No. So I say dress up if you can. I go to court looking for my client. He’s wearing a Tweety Bird shirt. Tweety Bird! That’s how you come to court? Jeezus! So he gets a summary $200.00 fine because the judge and cop cant stop laughing at him. But, it’s better than a felony or misdemeanor.”

Shroake Bjorn

We left the shithouse and we walked down to the cafeteria. I ordered the usual. Two eggs over medium and Snausages.

“So yesterday I see this kid. The NHL superstar. 18 years old just won the Stanley Cup. He is illegally parked. Long haired weird foreign guy. Female 40 something Cop starts to write him a ticket. He gets out and starts massaging her sides and then her fat yummy cop titties! She tears up the ticket! He is probably gonna f**k her later with enormous central European mancock!”

I Shroake.

“He love to f**k old bitches! I seen that European motherf*cker. Every lady he with is like 40, 50, 60. Them weird Cossack Slavic *&*&* have them huge c*cks! You know what I’m saying? Jaan?”

Shroake Samuel, the short order cook.

“So I have this client. Charge? First degree murder. Multiple homicide. I tell him I need 10k to start. He calls his friend. Tells him the money is stashed at his girlfriend’s house. Guy goes and gets the money and runs off with his girlfriend. I say: ‘I see a public defender in your future!’ What a shitty day. Then I get back and I start repeating: ‘Miles of files, files of miles. miles and miles of files and files. Andrew pops his head in. He thought I went insane. I have gone insane”

Shroake Bjorn.

“Maybe you are an anus. Go find a job doing something else and change your career. I thought I wanted to be a doctor. But then you have to put your hand into an anus or an old lady vageena or kid snot or rotting purulent filth. I’m like, I need to get into the lab. This eats rancid old man swimming pool distended testicles.”

I Shroake

“You went to medical school?”

Shroake Bjorn

“Afterwards I went to get my Masters and PhD so I could be in research. I am working on my PhD part-time. I’m doing my thesis. The war interrupted everything.”

I Shroake.

“Oh the war interrupted everything. F*ck your h*m* war you diaperous slob. I was in a war. Lebanon, 1983. I was on a Battleship. Naval gunnery. A shitty Navy Petty Officer Third Class. They blew up the Marine compound. They took all the useless shit heads and douchebags and they made us walk the perimeter at the blown up compound.”

Shroake Bjorn

“Ultra mega-yawn! You half-assed failed lawyer simian vageena-faced dope. Maybe you could represent my anus.”

I shroake.

“Let’s go see a band tonight. The Shroakers are paying at the Gonzo.”

“Isn’t that a gay joint?”

“It sure is gay! I’m there all the time, you sexy, tasty white devils gonna be there? I’ll be there. I’m not saying I’m gay, just because I like the taste of yummy man-flesh. You don’t have to be gay if you go there. It’s just a club, you daag? No-one is gonna stretch your del.icio.us tasty anus. The Shroakers are legit proto-early 50’s be-bop leather homo rock. Doors open at 7, $5.00 cover charge, you daag?”

Shroake Samuel

“Sounds great.”

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