- Joined
- Jul 24, 2009
- Messages
- 585
J.D.'s Blues, Part two
Jerry's neighbor Duane was a plaintiff's attorney by profession, one with questionable ethics at that. In his most recent victory he represented a man by the name of Darryl deBone, an individual who, though lacking in education, was a most creative scammer. One day Darryl smuggled a ziploc bag full of his own urine into a Los Angeles WalMart, spilled it all on the men's room floor, and had a nasty slip and fall. Mr. deBone claimed substantial physical and emotional injury; (minutes earlier, he had intentionally broken his own elbow with a 24 ounce framing hammer). Without ever going to trial, Duane obtained $600,000 from WalMart's insurer, a third of which he pockets for himself.
Duane was having a quiet afternoon before the slow moving Nortons disturbed his peace and quiet. He had just finished yet another email to Sarah Palin, the 23rd to be exact. Yet despite Duane's $5000 contribution in '08, none of them have been answered. As an increasingly frustrated Duane opened his front door to express his scorn, Jerry looks behind him, and offers a friendly nod. Predictably, Duane scowls, turns around and slams the door behind him.
This neighborly relationship was sunk from the start; when Jerry and Evie moved in, not knowing who she was, Duane approached Evie and asked her how much she wanted to clean his house, and if she had any relatives that did yard work. Needless to say, Evie was not impressed, and over the years did her best to ignore the pendejo across the road.
What Duane liked the least about his neighbors - besides Evie's OBAMA '08 bumper sticker, was the motorcycles. Jerry had 8 bikes now, and another little 50cc enduro he got to teach Lisa with. Most weekend mornings, the throaty bark of an big twin cold starting jolted Duane awake from one of his Sarah daydreams. Something had to be done, and Duane thought he knew what it was.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Ride Safely, Aloha.
Jerry's neighbor Duane was a plaintiff's attorney by profession, one with questionable ethics at that. In his most recent victory he represented a man by the name of Darryl deBone, an individual who, though lacking in education, was a most creative scammer. One day Darryl smuggled a ziploc bag full of his own urine into a Los Angeles WalMart, spilled it all on the men's room floor, and had a nasty slip and fall. Mr. deBone claimed substantial physical and emotional injury; (minutes earlier, he had intentionally broken his own elbow with a 24 ounce framing hammer). Without ever going to trial, Duane obtained $600,000 from WalMart's insurer, a third of which he pockets for himself.
Duane was having a quiet afternoon before the slow moving Nortons disturbed his peace and quiet. He had just finished yet another email to Sarah Palin, the 23rd to be exact. Yet despite Duane's $5000 contribution in '08, none of them have been answered. As an increasingly frustrated Duane opened his front door to express his scorn, Jerry looks behind him, and offers a friendly nod. Predictably, Duane scowls, turns around and slams the door behind him.
This neighborly relationship was sunk from the start; when Jerry and Evie moved in, not knowing who she was, Duane approached Evie and asked her how much she wanted to clean his house, and if she had any relatives that did yard work. Needless to say, Evie was not impressed, and over the years did her best to ignore the pendejo across the road.
What Duane liked the least about his neighbors - besides Evie's OBAMA '08 bumper sticker, was the motorcycles. Jerry had 8 bikes now, and another little 50cc enduro he got to teach Lisa with. Most weekend mornings, the throaty bark of an big twin cold starting jolted Duane awake from one of his Sarah daydreams. Something had to be done, and Duane thought he knew what it was.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Ride Safely, Aloha.
