Brokenhearted in Bakersfield
7 - THE CHASE IS OFF
There I was, briefly enjoying
a spell of peace and quiet while Little Billy laid out in that ditch with his
one eye open for passing buzzards when, off the highway, there comes this
beat-up Chevy kicking up a big ol’ cloud of dust. The car circled around once and then skidded
to a stop in front of my personal mobile home.
Unlike Little Billy, both of my eyes was now wide open, which was not an easy
accomplishment considering all the dust floating through the air. I watched with curious interest as this
sweaty feller all duded up in a pink shirt and pale blue pants and white shoes
with matching white belt stepped out of his vehicle. This stranger had the air of a man who’d
found a fashion statement and was determined to keep it.
“Howdy, sir,” he glad-handed me. “The
name’s Chase, Abel Chase, attorney-at-law, here to service your every legalistic
need.” He shoved his business card in my
hand.
Abel P. Chase, Esq.
(Jr. Partner)
LYNCH & LEVY
“Defenders of the Rights of the Civilly Disadvantaged since 1978 for Cash”
I glanced at his card but didn’t get past the upper-class letters when,
foregoing the formality of an invitation, Mr. Chase accosted me again. “I hear something afoul was afoot here in
Broken Heart Park, namely that you folks got yourselves out-finagled by one
thieving Mr. Jack Philpot, a.k.a. Ol’ Jack, of late your Park Manager. Is that not correct?”
I squinted through the bright sunlight reflecting off the man’s sparse head,
but before I could say anything he started talking some more. “Story on the street is that Mr. Philpot
appropriated for himself, and duly absconded with, the Broken Heart Park
improvement funds in an act of brazen skullduggery. Is this not true?”
The combination of sunlight and scalp oil vapors caused rainbows to materialize
around the stranger’s head. It was a
strange visual aura to behold.
Mr. Chase persevered with his case. “I
am here to inform you and other aggrieved parties that we can cut a deal and
seek reparations for what has transpired against you. Yes, sir. And this transgression is directly
owing to the negligent hiring practices of Broken Heart Park, Inc., which I
have discovered through painstaking due diligence is a franchise subsidiary of
a much larger entity which no doubt has deep pockets. Greedy corporate cost-cutting and a cheap
labor market conspired to the hiring of such a lowdown miscreant as Ol’ Jack
Philpot.”
I couldn’t get a wedge in word-wise.
“If I may interpose myself, sir,” Mr. Chase rocked back on his heels as he
shakily combed his spotted bald spot, “I am able to provide you a legal degradation
of the financial injuries you have suffered, and I can take interlocutory
action to bind your losses through the recourse of lawyerly adjudication.”
Once again, Mr. Chase looked at me with an expression of expectation, but
he apparently didn’t get the expected positive reaction as he proceeded to
wring his straw hat in his hands.
“Allow me to present you in a class action suit against this Broken Heart
Park.” He sounded like he wanted me to
conspire with him in something real significant. “And I will render its corporate parent
before the marble slab of judiciousness, and together we shall seek the
reconstitution of your aforementioned improvement funds.” He examined me real close with squinty eyes,
“Now I ask you, sir, will you join me in this action?”
“Well, honestly, I’ll tell you,” I glanced down at the attorney’s business card
again. “It is my longstanding practice
to refer all of my outstanding legal matters to Mr. William Peevy, Esquire.”
“I see,” Mr. Chase took to stroking his chin.
“Has lawyerly intercourse commenced with this Mr. Peevy?”
“No, not to my knowledge,” I answered truthfully. “But I believe Mr. Peevy is available for a
consultation.”
“I see,” the lawyer’s eyes darted about.
“Can you kindly direct me in the direction where I might make the
acquaintance of this Mr. Peevy?”
I pointed in the direction of the irrigation ditch.
Mr. Chase wiped his head with a handkerchief while he followed my point. He then strode across the drive, stepping
real high over piss-lizards, until he came upon the rim of the ditch where
Little Billy was hiding out. I watched
as the attorney cocked his head and peered down at the child.
I do not know what went through Mr. Chase’s mind after he came upon a little
boy laying on his backside playing dead with one eye open for available
buzzards. But I do know Mr. Chase wasted
no time in stomping back to his parked vehicle, absolutely paying no attention
to the sunning piss-lizards in his way.
I watched Mr. Chase’s car tear outta Broken Heart Park kicking up another choking
cloud of dust in its wake.