I was on vacation this week and finally got some time to myself. I’ve been wanting for a while to follow up on the Lampkin idea that came up in the Three Word (re-imagined) thread. Well, here is the first installment. Hopefully, others will contribute.
A young fresh-faced figure approached the receptionist in a spacious mahogany-ladened office. The receptionist removed his nose from the file cabinet and positioned his glasses with his right ring finger. “May I help you?”
The figure removed a paper from an envelope, unfolded it, and placed it on the desk. The receptionist eyed the paper with disdain. Slowly his expression changed and his eyes peered over the rim of his glasses to stare at the figure. “Oh. I’m sorry. We didn’t expect you so soon.”
Joseph Adama sat behind a huge desk covered with law textbooks and legal pads. Broken pencils were sprawled all over the place. The room was filled with smoke. Joe Adama smiled at the figure in his doorway, “Come in. Have a…find a seat.” He snickered and placed his cigar firmly in his teeth and spoke through it. “You’ll have to excuse the mess. I’m not used to entertaining. Most… Who am I kidding? All my clients are either incapable of visiting me or wish to remain inconspicuous.” He smirked, “Of course you knew that already.” He cleared a chair and offered it to the figure who approached and sat. Adama continued, “I read those articles you wrote about me for your college newsletter.” He sat in his chair and leaned forward searching his desk for something, “which is why I asked to see you.” Recognition spread across his face and he raised a cigar box from toppling textbooks. He opened the box and extended it toward the figure who reached forward. “Go ahead kid, have a cigar. You’re gonna go far.” Adama began to scan his desk again, “I apologize, at the moment, I cannot find my cutter. You’ll have to bite off the end.” He reached in his pocket and extended his silver lighter toward the other’s cigar and lit it.
Adama sat back and cracked his knuckles behind his head, “It’s obvious from what you’ve written that you don’t like me very much.” He puffed his cigar, “That’s alright. You’re not alone.” Adama inhaled deeply, “You’re very passionate about the law and justice. In time, what you’ll realize is that I am right about the law. It is a crucible meant to burn away all the facts and reveal victory or the truth, whichever you desire. Stay true to the law and it will stay true to you.” He stood and walked around the desk gesturing to the door. “I’ve got one more thing to say and then I’ll let you go.” Adama placed his hand on the figure’s shoulder, “Justice is a matter of perspective. We’re all guilty of something.”
The door shut and Romo Lampkin found himself standing in the reception lobby of Joseph Adama’s law office, alone. He wondered what the great defender of “the worst of the worst” wanted with him. After the meeting, he still wasn’t sure. He smiled and reached in his pocket. When he removed his hand, he turned it over and was holding Joe Adama’s engraved cigar cutter. The inscription read: Yours forever, Evelyn.
