You know who I’m really afraid of?  My attorney.  Now how fucked-up is that?  You know what attorney-client privilege means to me?  I am granting her a privilege by not telling her the whole truth. 

     The beautiful daughter she told me to stay away from is really quite enchanting.  Laughs at my jokes.  Now how ’bout that?  She’s so relaxed and friendly.  But when I think about her the image of three deputy sheriffs on my front porch with pistols drawn comes reflexively to mind.  Along with her mother brandishing a machete and a fistful of court orders.

     The reason she is so relaxed,  I am sure, is that there is absolutely no possibility of my coming on to her.  That girl is protected.  By a guardian so fierce and yet so irresistable she defies imagination.  Okay, so I have a crush on my attorney and her daughter.  Who doesn’t?

     The laugh of a woman so moves me that I think every one who gives me a chuckle wants to marry me and bear ten kids.  Made my attorney laugh.  It’s hell to have a crush on your attorney, who knows you simply as a telephone harasser of women, and pads your bill.  I would love to have an affair with this married woman who could fly me to Milan just for fun.  So sue me.  My nightmare is that she will.

     I only lied to her twice.  Didn’t tell her I got fired for “harassing” another chick.  Denied threatening to blow up the Post Office (yeah, right).  I really want her to think I’m innocent.  Hope she doesn’t read this.

2026 R.M. Reliable Electric