When
I got home from the supermarket a couple of hours ago there was an odd message
on my answering machine from a lawyer’s office in Hackensack, N.J. Since there was still a couple of hours before
most businesses close for the day, I decided to call the phone number that was
left and asked to speak with Mr. Norman*. When I explained to the receptionist on the
other end of the line who I was and that I was returning Mr. Norman’s call to
me, I was put through to him right away.
It
seems that this lawyer had been looking for me for a couple of weeks on a
matter concerning my father. I told this
guy that I hadn’t seen my crappy Dad in nearly twenty years; since he ran out
on me and my Mom. I told him as politely
as I could that unless my Dad had somehow struck it rich in Vegas or Atlantic
City and was leaving me millions in his will, I wanted nothing to do with the
fucking sod.
Mr.
Norman assured me that he needed to see me as soon as possible on a matter of
great urgency and I reluctantly agreed to let him come by tomorrow, even though
it’s Saturday. I’ve become a little
leery of lawyers since Gran passed away, but this guy is only trying to do his
job, right?
So
I guess I’ll have to wait until tomorrow to find out what my scumbag father
left me in his will. I hope it’s not
some cheesy letter of apology for walking out on me and Mom.
* Not the lawyer's real name, I changed it to somewhat protect his actual identity.
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