...it's not dark yet, but it's gettin' there...

July 14, 2006

A Lawyer Joke

A lawyer died and found herself before St. Peter. St. Peter flipped thru his book for several minutes, then turned to the lawyer and smiled. "Sorry to keep you waiting, but there's a small problem with you. I can't decide if you belong in heaven or in hell--so I'll let you decide. I'll send you to hell for 12 hours, then to heaven for 12 hours, and you get to decide where you go. OK?"

"That's fair," the lawyer said. "When do I go?"

"Right now," St. Peter answered and he snapped his fingers.

The lawyer blinked once, twice, three times. She was standing on the porch of a beautiful clubhouse, an immaculate golf course before her. Someone cleared his throat behind her, and she turned to see her favorite law school professor, the senior partner who mentored her, and the partner who recruited her standing behind her! "Welcome to Hell," the partner said and she thrust a golf bag at her. "C'mon. We got just enough time to grab some beer before we tee off."

She wasn't the worlds best golfer when alive, and she wasn't much better while dead, but she still got a hole in one! Afterward, during dinner in the clubhouse, a tall, handsome man in a bespoke suit joined them. "I'm Satan," he said by way of introduction and he started telling dirty jokes.

Too soon, however, Satan suddenly snapped his fingers...

...and she found herself on a cloud, wearing a white robe. Obviously, she was in Heaven, and she was bored. Bored bored bored.

There's no golf in heaven. No food or wine or dirty jokes, and there sure as hell weren't any of her old friends there. Before long, she found herself talking with God about...not much. God had a bit of a holier-than-thou attitude and, quite frankly, He was dull.

Soon enough...or not, as far as the lawyer was concerned...God snapped His fingers, and she found herself facing St. Peter again. "Well, my dear? Made up your mind?"

"I have," she said formally. "I want to go to Hell."

St. Peter looked disappointed. "I'm sorry to hear that, my dear." Snap!

Pain. Pain and fire and brimstone and crows picking at her liver and devils with pitchforks and everything you've imagined hell would be, only worse. After just a few hours of excruciating torment, Satan walked by and the lawyer screamed, "What gives? Yesterday it was parties and golf and my old friends, and today it's....it's hell! What the hell is going on here?"

Satan leered down at her. "Haven't you figured it out, my dear? Yesterday we were recruiting you. Today you're an Associate!"

For the really long version, look beneath the fold

The last thing anybody--and I do mean anybody-- does is die. Even lawyers.

And on the occasion of her Last Official Act as a Human Being, a lawyer found herself before St. Peter, waiting patiently while St. Peter flipped thru a book. And flipped...and flipped...and flipped. Finally he looked up and said to her, "I'm sorry to keep you waiting, my dear, but, believe it or not, I don't know where to put you. You're one of those very rare cases where your good points exactly balance your bad points and...well, you could go either to Hell or to Paradise."

The lawyer looked up at St. Peter and asked, "Ummm. How do I...how do you decide where I go?"

St. Peter laughed. "You had it right the first time, my dear. I don't decide--you do. I send you to Hell for twelve hours, then you go to Heaven for twelve hours, and in twenty-four hours you tell me where you'd like to go."

For the first time since she found out she was dead the lawyer smiled. "That actually sounds fair," she said. "When does this start?"

"Right now," St. Peter answered, and he snapped his fingers.


That's funny...I expected fire and brimstone to be a lot hotter the lawyer thought, then she opened her eyes.

Green. Hell was, apparently, green, with green grass, tall green trees...and blue sky with white clouds...and a white light, right at the other end of this path. The lawyer had seen enough movies to know when you're dead you walk into the light.

The old saint must've gotten his wires crossed, she thought as she walked, and as she walked she could make out a shape inside the light. A shadow...no, a building it was, long and angular, with a cupola or something rising from the middle of the structure.

Almost looks like a clubhouse, she thought to herself, and as she walked she saw two objects coming toward her, faster than a man could walk but not as fast as a car. As they came closer to her she realized what they were and she started laughing.

Golf carts. Heaven has golf carts!
The carts pulled up to her, and then she knew, without a doubt, she was in heaven.

In the first cart was the partner who mentored her at her second firm. Next to her was the senior partner who recruited her from her hated first job. And in the second cart was her favorite law school professor.

"Tee time's in five minutes," the professor called out to her. "And we need a fourth!" She didn't have to be told twice.

She wasn't a particularly skilled golfer when she was living, and while she didn't exactly set the course afire, she had he best round she'd ever had in her life. On the eighteenth, she teed off and watched while the ball sailed toward the green, bounced on the fairway once, twice, then onto the green and rolled into the cup.

"A hole in one!" one of the foursome yelled behind her. "Drinks are on you!"

The lawyer turned around, beaming, then frowned. "Uh," she stammered. "I don't have any money."

Everyone laughed. "Don't worry about it," her mentor said. "We don't use money in Hell."

The lawyer laughed, then she heard that last word. "Hell? I'm in Hell?" she asked.

"Yep. What'd you expect--devils with pitchforks?" and her golfing partners laughed. "C'mon. Let's get some lunch and meet Satan.

The meal was the best she'd ever had, the wine was wine she'd only dreamed of tasting. And Satan...Satan, she had to admit, wasn't a bad guy. He was tall, handsome, well dressed, and spoke with an accent she couldn't quite place. Maybe he told too many raw jokes, and maybe he pinched her one too many times, but had she met him while alive--Yeah, I'd sell my soul to him, she thought.

After telling a joke involving a trampoline, some casaba melons, and a dozen midgets that was easily the funniest and rudest joke she had ever heard in her...uhh...Satan turned to her. "Young lady, you have only a few minutes left. Any questions?"

The lawyer thought for a moment before speaking. "You know, I have to admit this is nothing like what I expected. If I had to make my decision right now..."

Satan cut her off. "Better not say anything just yet. Besides, as a lawyer you should know there's another story." And he snapped his fingers.


Holy shit, I'm bored, the lawyer thought. She had been in heaven for about four hours and she found out Heaven is Dull. Nothing to do, nothing to see, except for white clouds, white robes, white marble fountains...white marble buildings!

She half expected to find white chocolate ice cream.

Eventually, she found a library, filled with every book known to man (in white binding). In the lower level was a string quartet playing...well, nothing exciting. The music was, somehow, white. She was grateful there was no place to eat, as she was sure she'd be served mashed potatos, cauliflower, and Wonder bread. She found a bench by a fountain and sat down, and a man sat down next to her. "Hi," He said. "I'm Jesus. St. Peter told me he couldn't find a place for you?"

She sat and chatted with Jesus about...well, nothing. He was a nice enough guy, but dull. After one particularly long diatribe about....nothing, she decided, Jesus suddenly asked, "Young lady, you have only a few minutes left. Any questions?"

She thought for a moment, yawned, and she made up her mind at that moment. "No. I've made up my mind. Do I tell You?"

"Nope. Tell St. Peter." And He snapped his fingers.


St. Peter smiled from behind his book. "Hello, my dear. I trust you've made up your mind?"

"I have," she said. "Heaven was nice, but dull. Really dull. But in Hell...I ran into my old friends, I had fun, I got a hole-in-one! I hopy you understand, but I'd rather go to Hell!"

St. Peter looked disappointed. "Are you sure, my dear? Remember--eternity is an awful long time!"

The lawyer noded her head. "I'm sure." She turned around, faced the long line of souls behind her, and threw her arms over her head in triumph. "I'm going to Hell!" Behind her St. Peter snapped his fingers.


Pain. Excruciating pain, all over her body, and a smell of copper, and screaming. Lots of screaming!

A blood-curdling scream next to her ear. She opened her eyes and saw a devil spear a man who had been trying to climb out of the pool of...boiling blood?

She was floating in a pool of boiling blood. Her scream joined his as she turned away--the man was someone she had once defended.


After what had to have been an eternity, she felt hands grip her head and she was lifted out of the boiling blood. "Enjoying Hell, young lady?" Satan asked.

"How long...how long have I been here?" she gasped.

"Not long. About seven hours. Things sure have changed since yesterday, haven't they?"

It took a while to sink in. She had been here for less than a half-day? "What gives? What the hell is going on? Yesterday it was my friends and golf and wine and dirty jokes, and today it's...it's Hell!"

Satan smiled a smile only he could smile. "Haven't you figured it out, my dear? Yesterday we were recruiting you. Today you're an Associate!"

Posted by Victor, Jul. 14, 2006 | TrackBack (0)
Rubric: Legal Mumbo Jumbo


Good one!

Posted by: Tuning Spork on Jul. 14, 2006

You've got to get out more, similar chestnuts have been around for eons. FYI, BREVITY is the soul of wit.


Posted by: Casca on Jul. 16, 2006