THE BUGGAR'D COW

[This monologue is comedic and suitable for male or female, age: late 20's through almost dead. It can be delivered to either a 'Freddie' or a 'Wendy.' You will find that you may be better able to adapt your delivery of the monologue based on which gender you are and to which gender you imagine you are delivering it. It can be done sitting, standing, or a combination of the two. Obviously, whether it is Freddie or Wendy who is getting lectured, they are each in their middle-twenties and therefore fresh out of law school. ]

[For those who find the language to salty for a woman to be delivering, let me tell you something from personal experience: I've met plenty of female attorneys who can go head-to-head in a cursing contest with truck driver. After you deal with enough crazy situations and nutty people, you can acquire a rather hard way of expressing yourself.]

Freddie/Wendy, I hear you laughed at one of our clients. Now hear this! This is a Wisconsin law firm. And if you’re going to be a lawyer in Wisconsin, you can’t laugh when a client tells you he was caught screwing a cow. This is dairy country for Chrissakes!

And you! You’re a professional!

Psychologists – Doctors – Lawyers – we’re all ‘professionals.’ And do you know what the difference between a professional and a layman is?

The professional doesn’t laugh when the client tells him he got busted screwing a cow.

It’s just not done.

We have a responsibility to the public. Do you remember what that responsibility is? Huh?

[pause - then continue speaking as if repeating Freddie/Wendy’s answer to the question]

Right! To “zealously” defend our criminal clients against the overwhelming power of the state.

Sometimes Freddie/Wendy, you’re going to find that the only thing standing between the state penitentiary and some poor bastard who buggared a goat, is you!

Again, let me remind you – we are in Wisconsin. Remember the saying, “When in Rome, do as the Romans do?” [pause as he listens to Freddie/Wendy]

What? No! I am not suggesting you start dating a Guernsey. What I’m saying is that we have to accommodate ourselves to the problems people face peculiar to this locale.

And what do we find in this locale? We find boys raised on farms. Boys who started throwing bales of hay when they were ten years old. Corn and beef fed muscular boys -- Boys in the best physical shape in these United States.

And where are they living?

On one thousand acre farms with the nearest neighbor ten miles away.

Now they can wander up the road for a few hours and hope the neighbor’s got a cute teen-aged daughter with the morals of a bar-fly. But what do you think the odds are of that happening?

Whereas – remember now – this is Wisconsin – that same strapping young fellah can’t spit without hitting a cow. Do you think it’s an accident that Wisconsin has the fewest knocked up single teen-age girls in the country? Uh-uh. And we have the Guernsey’s to thank for that.

So please – do me a favor – do not – I repeat – do not laugh at our clients who sodomize farm animals. At least not until we get paid.