Running With Scissors

The Seven Deaths of Peter Katz

Peter always remembered one teacher in particular from his days as a law student. That teacher basically shaped his outlook on life, and on his law practice.

It was his Introduction to Law teacher-a burly Mongolian man whose name Peter could never pronounce correctly, particularly because the name didn't possess a single vowel.

Said teacher once told his class the following parable: an old man was having some legal troubles, so he decided to find an attorney. He had his daughter look for the best attorney she could find, and money was not a problem for him.

The first lawyer they visited was a partner of a famous legal firm. The attorney was sharply dressed, with an impressive mahogany desk and a bookcase full of neatly ordered legal books behind him. The old man took one look at the man and his office and decided not to hire him.

His daughter, mad at the old man, looked for another attorney, this time finding one at a strip mall. The attorney wore a cheap suit with dust on it, with dirt under his fingers and worn-out sneakers. Books littered the place, wide open with scribbles and bookmarks on them. The old man didn't even think twice and hired him on the spot.

"Why did you hire that mutt of a lawyer?" his daughter would ask.

"Because," said the old man, "you don't understand the why of his appearance. He didn't bother to wear a good suit because he spends most of his time combing through dusty file cabinets. He has dirt under his fingernails because he's not afraid to get his hands dirty. The worn-out sneakers tell me he runs around the court. And of course, the books show that he keeps studying every day to learn something new. That man will fight for me."

The story was supposed to teach students that there's nothing better than hard work, and if one gets too distracted with luxuries and the like, you could easily lose north of what a lawyer should be. Peter, being the astute man that he is, took an entirely different message from it.

For Peter, appearances were everything. If he looked busy, he would attract more customers. If he appeared bookish, people would think he was smart. The message he took was simple: people are suckers, so you can make them think whatever if you're smart enough to know how. That's how he made his money.

Like a true conman, Peter would stalk his potential clients and change to fit their needs. A folksy Texan oil tycoon needed a lawyer to sue the state? Well gosh darn it, Peter Katz from Texarkana was gon' get you what you want, Mister! Does a tough New York mobster need some zoning permits? Forgettabouit! Peter "Two Shoes" Katz was gonna make all that fakakta smocks wish they didn't mess with him.

He was proud of his ability to read people. It was his livelihood.

Which made not being able to figure out what James Truman-Conelly's deal was especially frustrating.

His office was a mess, and not the good kind of a mess. No teacher would ever use him as an example of professional behavior. Maybe a psychology teacher could spin it as a cry for help from a deeply depressed individual that wanted to die surrounded by smiling, redhead girls with pigtails.

Wrappers upon wrappers of Wendy's fast food littered the floor, to the point when the carpet beneath was practically invisible. The smell of moldy processed cheese cut sharp through Peter's nose.

Empty bags, discarded after a compulsory binging session and thrown away housed entire colonies of cockroaches that were so advanced they were already discussing whether to use the Metric system over the Imperial system. Their gun control laws were surprisingly effective.

The only thing that stood up from the heaps of trash was a cocobolo desk, and a taxidermy alligator that peaked its head through the rubble, which was a symbol commonly associated with the worship of Sobek(May his leathery skin keep us warm through the everlasting winter.)