*Previously published in The Story Shop VII, 1998, Amarillo, Texas.

BIG MAC (with onions)
BY
KEITH LAUFENBERG


And when I am King---as King I will be'�..there shall be no money; all shall eat and drink on my score; and I will apparel them all in one livery, that they may agree like brothers, and worship me their lord.
Dick: The first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers.
William Shakespeare, King Henry VI, Act II, scene 11.




Jerry 'Big Mac' McWhirter chain-lit another cigarette and sipped from a large coffee mug. Standing to his full height of 6'6'�, he yawned and stretched idly. Swallowing a stream of cold Sanka, he ambled across his large office to where a fresh brewed pot of coffee sat simmering, having just finished the last phase of percolation. Sitting just adjacent to the coffee machine was a spigot that was attached to a ten gallon drum of ice-cold draft beer.
McWhirter was a highly successful attorney, specializing in personal injury and wrongful death. He was known throughout the legal community for his bulldog determination and unyielding toughness. A natural loner, with a deadly wit, he was a formidable opponent, winning many more than his share in the rough and tumble of the South Florida courts. He refused to give ground and was no longer intimidated by any judges, even to the point of McWhirter himself being more likely than not to be the one to intimidate them, as he had appealed cases all the way to the United States Supreme Court AND had won, thus making legal history by creating new law. Attorney's, across the nation, regularly cited HIS cases when appealing a decision of a similar nature. His firm had a backlog of cases even his nine lawyer staff couldn't adquetely handle and he also employed five paralegals, seven legal secretaries and four full-time investigators. McWhirter himself very rarely took a personal interest in a case nowadays; his calender being booked solid, months in advance, usually with golf games, yachting parties and innumerable business and social functions.
But, Big Mac was taking an interest in Slade v. Sunshine Memorial Hospital, a case every ambulance chaser in town was scrambling for and the reason was very simple, money. McWhirter, like all good, successful litigator's could smell money in a case a mile away and he loved money and he also loved the things it bought him; these to include, besides wine, women and song, a fleet of priceless antique automobiles, large interests in several shopping mall's, several thousand acres of property, a covey of catamarans and yachts, a fifty acre estate in West Palm Beach valued at over ten million dollars, several beach-front condo's and, one of his biggest money makers, a McDonald's franchise. Like a trained canine, Big Mac's senses were so acute as to have actually afforded him the munificent opportunity to have been the very first mouth-piece to have called the grieving widow. It was as wrongful and negligent a death as he could ever remember having represented and he, and his firm, had represented thousands.
Frank Slade, a 52 year old professor of anthropology, had gone in for a routine checkup. His doctor had suggested that the unsightly, varicose veins in his left leg could be surgically removed at absolutely no risk. In a surgery gone bizarrely wrong, the surgeon had removed Slade's calf muscle and severed a major artery. Frank Slade had bled to death on the floor of the largest of a tripartite of successful privately owned, for profit hospitals; and, more importantly, on the floor of the MOST successful of the three. In the black for decades, Sunshine Memorial settled its lawsuits and threats of lawsuits quietly, and quickly, out of court, and out of the public scrutiny. C. Frederick Hines, the hospital's chief counsel, hadn't been in a courtroom in years, and, in fact, was much more of an administrator than he was an attorney. Big Mac loved suing colossal corporations, whose insurance companies had fathomless funds. The intercom on his enormous, ornate desk buzzed suddenly and he listened pensively, as his secretary announced the arrival of his one o'clock appointment, Mrs. Frank Slade.
McWhirter stubbed out a cigarette butt, leaned down to the intercom and boomed:
'Send her right in, Natalie.'�
McWhirter stuck a Camel in his mouth and met Mrs. Slade at the entrance to his office. He showed her his expensive dental work and rasped:
'Missus Slade, so nice to see you. Please, come in.'�
Ester Slade smiled demurely and took a seat in front of Big Mac's huge desk. Big Mac flashed her another Dick Nixon and settled his large frame into the plush, leather armchair behind his uncluttered desk. Several legal pads, one of which Big Mac now reached for, folders and legal briefs were stacked neatly across the top of the highly glossed desk-top. They were for appearances only, Big Mac, being strictly a trial attorney, did absolutely no paperwork himself. He would assign a junior partner the actual research and reading of the infinite amount of cases needed to obtain just the right points and authorities needed to strengthen their case. The junior partner would then assign an associate to the case and the associate, in turn, would assign a paralegal to actually do the work. The paralegal would research the case and turn over the points and authorities of all pertinent cases. The associate would then eliminate all but the highest cites and turn these over to the junior partner, who would, then, read through them and highlight the pertinent paragraphs in the cited cases; do the final brief and have a secretary type it up. He would then turn this brief over to the trial attorney, in this case, Big Mac himself. McWhirter, now, gave in to temptation and torched his cigarette. He inhaled deeply and said:
'Now then, Missus Slade. I must say, in all my long years of practice I have never, NEVER seen a case that cries out for justice more than this one.'� Big Mac nodded at the widow, who sniffled slightly. He surveyed her ample bust-line and grinned sheepishly, her telephone voice had made him picture her as somewhat dowdy. She crossed as shapely a pair of gams as Big Mac

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could remember having seen in recent days and exhaled a stream of smoke, coughing
slightly. Her husband had been a college professor, he hadn't expected a woman with such phenomenal attributes. He almost gagged when she stammered:
'Do. . .dah. . .do you really think I should sue the hah... hospital, Mister McWhirter?'�
McWhirter frowned. This was going to require all of his extensive experience.
'Missus Slade I'�'�'�..
'Oh, please. Call me Estah.'�
'Why certainly Ester and, please, Ester, call me Jerry.'�
'Jah'�..Jerry, the hospital contacted me right before I came over here. Around noon. A'�..a Mister Hymims I think he said his name was.'�
McWhirter straightened up quickly. Less than 48 hours and they had already contacted the widow. They worked faster than even McWhirter could have foreseen. He frowned and said:
'That would be Mister Hines, their general counsel.'�
'Oh? I thought he said he was a lawyer.'�
McWhirter smiled obliquely. This was too good to be true. Was she that lame, or was she just putting him on, to test him?
'Well, ah-er Ester, see, he represents the hospital.'�
'Yes, he wanted me to accept some money as a way of their apologizing for the accident.'�
'Wha'�'�'�'�.wha'�'�'�WHAT?'�
'Yes, I was thinking I should just accept it and'�'�'�'�'�'�
'Wait a minute Missus, Ester, I realize I am not your attorney, ah-yet, bu. . .but ah-er, I would feel remiss in my fiduciary responsibility not to inform you that'�'�'�'�'�
'Fi'duce-see-air-ree wha.. .at?'�
'How much did they ah'�'�'�'�'�..
'Well, a hundred thousand dollars, I, Jerry, I, well, I thought that it seemed awful fair?'�
'ESTER?'� McWhirter came from behind his desk and grabbed Ester Slade by the hand. She was so well-endowed by her creator that her blouse brushed against Big Mac's suit coat. The heat from her body almost overwhelmed Big Mac, who blanched slightly and stammered:
'Ah-er, Ester, I must tell you that that is peanuts, it's PEANUTS! Ester, what would Mister Slade think? Is that all his life was WORTH?'�
Ester Slade suddenly burst into tears. She reached out, and Big Mac met her half-way. He felt a sudden awakening in his groin, as the fragrance of Ester Slade's hair wafted into his nostrils. He sighed, realizing Ester Slade's mounds of glory had crushed a $20 boutonniere. Her body shook in great sobs, surprising even so jaded and worldly a man as Big Mac.
Ester Slade glanced upwards at McWhirter's impressively sculpted noggin, which he had paid a leading plastic surgeon five large for and his fluffed, coiffured, golden locks that had cost him almost as much. As she hugged him tightly, McWhirter quietly reached across his desk, and grabbed a retainer agreement, a phenomenal feat in itself, considering the physical attributes of the hugger. As she relaxed her hold, the sobbing abated somewhat and when she shifted her position McWhirter quickly shoved a legal pad under the retainer contract and cooed:
'Ester, just sign here and I will start the proceedings.'�

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Ester Slade took the proffered paper in hand and blinked.
'Prah. . . .pro-seed...dings. Jerry, I'�'�'�..
'The investigation, Ester. The accident, as Mister Hines so aptly put it, should never happen again, Ester; THINK, think of other women in your position?'�
'But Jerry a hundred'�'�'�'�'�'�'�..
Slade put a long, index finger to his lips and rasped:
'A million is not enough, dear child. This was your dear husband, this was'�'�'�..
As Ester Slade dissolved into sobs, once again, Big Mac smiled and pushed the retainer agreement to the fore, where Ester Slade quickly signed it.
As she was being led through the outer office that afternoon, Ester Slade was consoled by Big Mac, as he hugged her tightly cooing endearments all the while. He promised to come to her home with information that very afternoon, as well he would. What information, he wasn't sure of yet, but he knew, after experiencing the body heat of Ester Slade, it was something he meant to pursue.
Big Mac handed his secretary the retainer agreement and told her to make several copies. It was his usual split, assuring him of a healthy sum the more the hospital settled for. If it was for anything over a million, and it would be well in excess of that, McWhirter recieved fifty per cent.
As Ester Slade exited the outer office and Big Mac was joined in his ornate inner-sanctum, by his senior partner John Sievs, who had been with him for over a decade, he winked and barked:
'The BIG MAC did it, again!
Sievs smiled and rasped:
'Did she get the FULL treatment Big Guy?'�
McWhirter looked over Sievs' shoulder and saw his secretary in the anteroom, photocopying the retainer agreement. He winked conspiratorially at him and rasped:
'John, I'm gonna have to slip her the beef this afternoon.'�
Sievs smiled widely and barked:
'Oh, you dog, you dog. Gawd, what a set a pips she had though, huh? Did she want her Big Mac with onions? Heh-heh. I noticed a slight redness around her big blues.'�
Big Mac slipped his arm around his friend and long time partner and warbled:
'Johnny she ordered it with everything on it; and I was forced to slip her an extra helping of the old onions.'�








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