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A lawyer…

I like the sound of that. I would have loved to be one, actually. A lawyer who works on behalf of the little people. I’d be their superman. And some day, one night, an incredible thing might happen.

A family of four sits at the table, dining, with their two children enjoying their delicious plate of spaghetti and meatballs. The father looks up across the table, and meets his wife’s eyes. And they smile at what they have. Out of nowhere, he hears something. He picks up his napkin, gently wipes his mouth, stands up, and walks to the window behind him. From outside, you can see his fingers slowly pulling the curtains as his face comes to view and finds what he’s looking for.

His wife and his two kids wait for his response.

“It’s him.”

That simplistic line prompts all four them to walk hurriedly to the front door. The father places his hands on the doorknob, turns it, opens it, and  sees how his family are not the only ones heading towards the front door. Houses across and down the streets already have their owners and occupants standing before the front door, their eyes all gazing towards the same end.

Underneath the moonlight, walking down the middle of the lonely street, I walk. Everybody can hear the sound my shoes make as they slap against the cold, hard pavement. Briefcase in hand, tie undone, hair out place, my eyes never move away from my goal: the end of the road.

I walk, tired, battered, and alone after a loooong, hard day.

And then they start applauding. One by one, every individual that lay their eyes on me applaud giving me an ovation because I can stand up, and fight those men of evil sitting behind their desk over at those Insurance Companies. I fight men like Bush or Karl Rove, who have rewritten the constitution and slowly begin to tear apart this country that so many fought for over 225  years.

I fight those who lay on their yacht over the Caribbean Islands, smiling in triumph as bulldozers begin to tear forest and destroy natural habitat, propelling creatures unto that long list of endangered species. I fight men who unscrupulously take advantage of the lower class, blue-collar workers who work for pennies simply because pennies are worth much more than nothing at all.

That’d be a heck of an ovation, don’t you think? I can see Gregory Peck walking down that street as Atticus Finch. Why can’t anyone be like him nowadays?

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2 Comments

  1. To reassure you, it’s not true no one can be like him… there are still some people who dream about justice and not only money.

    • Oh I’m sure there’s a few fellas out there who fight with their hearts. It’s the end, when they end up failing to win that bothers what’s left of me. But who knows? Maybe someday, soon, odds will become favorable towards us.

      Thanks for your comment Little Explorer.


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