Birds of a feather?
I dreamt recently that Al Eagleson ended up in a jail cell adjacent to Linda Gibbons.
"What are you in for?" Linda asked him politely.
"I stole a couple million dollars from some hockey players," Al replied jokingly.
"Did you give it back?" asked Linda, always seeking to help a sinner.
"You kidding?" Al replied, laughing. "What do you think I'm paying my lawyer with?"
"Very funny," said Linda.
"What's your name?" Al asked.
"I'm Al Eagleson. What are you in for, Linda?"
"I tried to stop some women who were planning to kill their preborn babies."
"What'd you do, tackle them?"
"No. I just tried to talk them out of it. All you get is about ten seconds in front of the abortion mill to get the pro-life message across. Sometimes I just pray."
"And they arrested you for that?"
"How long are you in, overnight?"
"Actually, I'm well into my fourth year."
"Four years?! exclaimed Al. "I admitted to fraud and all I got was 18 months."
"Yeah, Linda, but I had to make restitution of a million dollars."
"I hope you learned your lesson."
"I did. I'm going to be more careful next time."
"I'll pray that you'll find God."
"Well, I'll pray that you'll find a good lawyer. You should have had my lawyer, Brian Greenspan. Brian is the kind of a lawyer who can make it sound like the end of the world if his client isn't given leave to go home for Easter dinner. He told me he'd be dam... er, darned if he'd let them deny me privileges they give everyone else."
"That's strange. I never got a pass to go home for Easter dinner. Anyway, what happened then?"
"Brian almost had a fit, and threatened to call a press conference unless they got the jail superintendent and the assistant superintendent to come back into the office on a holiday weekend to argue it out."
"They told him to go jump in the lake, I imagine."
"No, they came!"
"What did they say?"
If looks could kill
"If looks could kill... I didn't get my Easter dinner at home, but Brian sure gave those top oats the shakes. The good news is that Brian's getting me outta here soon on day parole. I figure I might sneak out for a three-hour lunch and a little golf on the side," Al laughed gleefully.
"Anyway," Al continued, "I'm sure I can talk Brian into representing you, as a favour to me. What do you say?"
"No, thanks," said Linda gently. "I never have a lawyer represent me. Children in the womb don't have anyone to speak for them. Why should I?"
"You don't say anything?" asked Al, incredulously.
"No," Linda replied matter-of-factly. "I may have to spend the rest of my life in jail witnessing to the death of the preborn."
"Look, Linda, you can't do much for your cause in here. Just call Brian—he'll get you out of here before nightfall. You can even use my cell phone. Hey, I guess in here I should call it a "cell-cell phone," right? Ha, ha. That's a good one, eh? Anyway, punch the first number. It's Brian's. It's your crack at freedom."
Al tried to hand the cell phone to Linda; but she refused it.
"Well, Linda," said Al, disappointed, but impressed, "you're definitely not the run-of-the-mill jailbird."
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