Well, um, seeing as how I have no brains or legal expertise, and Ed here was losing all faith in the system, am I right?
I just went out there and performed sexual favors. Six hundred and thirty-four blow jobs in five days… I’m really quite tired.
Oh see, now that pisses me off. First of all, since the demur we have more than 400 plaintiffs and… let’s be honest, we all know there are more out there. They may not be the most sophisticated people but they do know how to divide and $20 million isn’t *shit* when you split it between them. Second of all, these people don’t dream about being rich. They dream about being able to watch their kids swim in a pool without worrying that they’ll have to have a hysterectomy at the age of *twenty*. Like Rosa Diaz, a client of ours. Or have their spine deteriorate, like Stan Blume, *another* client of ours. So before you come back here with another lame ass offer, I want you to think real hard about what your spine is worth, Mr. Walker. Or what you might expect someone to pay you for your uterus, Ms. Sanchez. Then you take out your calculator and you multiply that number by a hundred. Anything less than that is a waste of our time.
By the way, we had that water brought in specially for you folks. Came from a well in Hinkley.
Oh, I got numbers comin’ outta my ears. For instance: ten.
Yeah. That’s how many months old my baby girl is.
Yeah. Yeah, sexy, huh? How ’bout this for a number? Six. That’s how old my other daughter is, eight is the age of my son, two is how many times I’ve been married – and divorced; sixteen is the number of dollars I have in my bank account. 850-3943. That’s my phone number, and with all the numbers I gave you, I’m guessing zero is the number of times you’re gonna call it.
That’s all you got, lady. Two wrong feet in fucking ugly shoes.
Ya know why everyone thinks that all lawyers are backstabbing, bloodsucking scumbags? ‘Cause they are! And I cannot believe you expect me to go out, leave my kids with strangers and get people to trust you with their lives while all the while you’re screwing me! You know, Ed, it’s not about the number! It’s about the way my work is valued in this firm, it’s the…
Annabelle Daniels: 714-454-9346. 10 years old, 11 in May. Lived on the plume since birth. Wanted to be a synchronized swimmer so she spent every minute she could in the PG&E pool. She had a tumor in her brain stem detected last November, an operation on Thanksgiving, shrunk it with radiation after that. Her parents are Ted & Rita. Ted’s got Crohn’s disease, Rita has chronic headaches, and nausea, and underwent a hysterectomy last fall. Ted grew up in Hinkley. His brother Robbie, and his wife May and their five children: Robbie Jr, Martha, Ed, Rose & Peter also lived on the plume. Their number is 454-9554. You want their diseases?
Bite my ass, Krispy Kreme!
Now, I’m smart, I’m hard-working and I’ll do anything… and I’m not leaving here without a job.
Don’t make me beg. If it doesn’t work out, fire me… But don’t make me beg!
Hey Scott, tell me something. Does PG&E pay you to cover their ass, or do you just do it out of the kindness of your heart?
The fuck you don’t! Nobody calls me Pattee. That heavy-breathing sicko that called the other night could have only found out about me from you. People are dying, Scott, you’ve got document after document here telling you why, and you haven’t said one word. I wanna know… How the hell you sleep at night?
I was pulling out real slow, and out of nowhere his Jaguar comes racing around the corner like a bat outta hell…
They took some bone from my hip and put it in my neck; I didn’t have insurance so I’m about $17,000 in debt right now.
I couldn’t take painkillers ’cause they made me too groggy to take care of my kids…
Matthew’s eight, Katie’s almost six and Beth’s just nine months…
I just wanna be a good mom, a nice person, a decent citizen. Just wanna take good care of my kids. You know?
I don’t need pity, I need a paycheck. And I’ve looked. But when you’ve spent the past six years raising babies it’s real hard to find somebody who pays worth a damn, are ya getting every word of this down, honey, or am I talking too fast?
For the first time in my life, I got people respecting me. Please, don’t ask me to give it up.
Well as long as I have one ass instead of two I’ll wear what I like if that’s all right with you. You might want to re-think those ties.
NO, no… I hate lawyers. I only work for them.
Bullshit! You’re trying to feel less guilty about firing someone with three kids to feed! Well, fuck if I’ll help you do that!
Look, I don’t know shit about shit but I know right from wrong!
Isn’t it funny how some people go out of their way to help others, when others just fire them?
Oh, and why the hell would you assume that?
Oh, so by that standard I should assume that you never get laid.
Do you want to know? Then you’ll have to hire me back. I’ve got a ton of bills to pay.
I’ve been working, that is all I have been doing, what am I supposed to do check in with you every two seconds?
I’m not talking to you, bitch!
Get out of my face!
Are you going to be something else that I have to survive? Because… to tell you the truth… I’m not up to it.
I’m sorry. I just don’t see why you’re corresponding with PG&E about your medical problems in the first place.
Bullshit. If you had a full staff, this office would return a client’s damn phone calls.
Oh, you fucking piece of CRAP with no signal!
Not personal? That is my work! My sweat! My time away from my kids! If that’s not personal, I don’t know what is.
I gave the whole town a blow job.
