A
Satire
He was a
lean man with a gaunt face and a loose green suit. Harold McGreedy was strolling down a long street in London, England. He had a happy
look on his face, for he was on his way to see one of his clients, a
man named Edward Humblton. As he swung along with his long-stepped
gait, he saw many people look his way. They had sad looks on their faces. They were his former clients. Harold was one of those men who
use the law to swindle poor hapless people out of their money by the
guise of good.
There
are many like him, all with the same conniving smile, always so cheerful
and happy, yea, but only on the exterior; in the interior is the deep
sadness of one who tries to fill his heart with money instead of God.
He,
Harold, swung in a gate in the middle of New-shire street and walked
up a set of stone steps, paused and knocked at the door; then hearing
a muffled shout telling him to enter, he entered into a kind of
parlour. In a chair sat the man Edward. He was a stocky man with a
turnip nose and black beady eyes. These had a worried look, as indeed
they should have.
“Hello,
Mr. Humblton,” said Harold, in an air of total indifference, “how
are things today?”
“No,
better than last week, in fact by many means things are worse,” said
Edward.
“But
how do you mean worse?”
“It is
Collins, he is after me again. If I don't win this suite I will not
have the money to pay him back, that, my friend, will be the everliving
end!” he yelled. “Sorry, I didn't mean to shout.”
“Well,
I will see what I can do, for a certain small fund of course.”
“A
SMALL FUND, DO YOU NOT THINK 2,500 POUNDS IS ENOUGH, EH?” shouted
he.
“Now
just calm down Mr. Humblton, sir, it will all turn out in the end.”
“FOR
YOU MAYBE, I WILL NOT STAND FOR IT, YOU WILL GET YOUR 2,500 POUNDS,
NOT A SHILLING MORE, PERIOD!”
“Oh.”
“OH?”
“YES,
oh,” Harold took a deep breath “Mr. Humblton, you need my
services, right?!”
“Well
y...”
“Of
course you do."
“BUT...”
“So
you see, you must pay me the extra 250 pounds.”
The
stocky man walked behind his desk and opened a drawer. He reached
inside, quick as a flash he produced a pistol.
“YOU
BETTER GET OUT OF THIS HOUSE BEFORE I COUNT TO TEN, YOU OVER-STEPPED LAWYER, OR I'LL BLOW THAT GAUNT HEAD OFF OF YOUR LEAN BODY. YOU
DON'T FOOL ME YOU'RE JUST A LAW LEGALIZED ROBBER.”
“Now
see here, Mr. Humblton...”
“ONE,
TWO, THREE...”
“BUT
MR. HUMBLTON!!!” shouted Harold, his voice high and shaky.
“FIVE,
SIX...”
There
was a sudden thud as the door slammed shut, then silence. Harold ran
quickly out of the house to the nearest police station. He popped in
the door panting.
“Mr. Policeman, Mr. Policeman, help me! There is a man who just about
murdered me, come along quickly!”
“Wot's
this my good man? You just about murdered a someone, eh,
wot?” inquired the policeman, who had apparently just awoken, when
the lawyer flew through the door.
“No,
no, not I murdered him, he murdered me, I mean, almost murdered
me,” exclaimed Harold.
“How
is that again?”
“Oh,
never mind, just come on,” said Harold.
They
walked back to Mr. Humblton's house in New-shire street, walked
through the gate and up the steps, back inside the green parlour they
found Mr. Humblton seated in his chair, head in hands crying.
“What
is the matter good sir?” asked the policeman.
“Nobody will help me! They are all interested in what they will get out of
it, not in actually helping,” cried Mr. Humblton, then seeing Harold
in the background he yelled “WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING, BRINGING THAT FILTHY, CHEATING LAWYER INTO MY HOUSE.”
“Sir,
please tell me what it is about Mr. McGreedy that you don't
like?” said the policeman.
“HE'S
A LYING, CHEATING, STEALING LAWYER, HE TRIED TO SWINDLE ME OUT OF
2,750 POUNDS, THE LIKES OF HIM SHOULD ALL BE SHOT!!!” shouted Mr.
Humblton.
“SHUT
UP, YOU GREAT BIG MOUTHED BOY,” yelled Harold.
“CALM
DOWN, calm down,” said the policeman, then turning to Harold he said, “It sounds like you tried to swindle this old man, what do you say,
is this true?”
“Well,
I guess it is,” said the now subdued Harold.
“Then,
I'm afraid I have no choice except to arrest you, Harold
McGreedy,” said he, “the charges will be, swindling under guise,
attempted murder.”
With
that he snapped on the handcuffs and marched Harold McGreedy off to
jail.
J.D.P.G.F.F.
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