Carl Sack, Esquire

In this day and age...

Mon, 06 Oct 2008 04:01:08 GMT

More teenagers should be so concerned about having their voices heard.

*rubs his head*

Meanwhile, if this firm never has to deal with Melvin Palmer again, it'll be too soon. Jerry and Katie - nicely done, however.

Memo to all employees of Crane, Poole & Schmidt

Thu, 10 Apr 2008 04:41:20 GMT

Memo

TO: All Crane, Poole & Schmidt employees

FROM: Carl Sack

SUBJ: Dress code

In case you’ve all forgotten basic rules of proper etiquette, let me remind you. Pants must be worn at all times. Consider this the 7-Eleven rule. But instead of No Shoes, No Shirt, No Service, it’s No Pants, No Paycheck. Better yet, consider it the Edwin Poole Rule -- No Pants, We Send You To the Nuthouse.

Questions? Feel free to stop by my office. With pants on.

Carl

OOC

Thu, 28 Feb 2008 00:48:09 GMT

This is a note to let those on Carl's f-list know that, due for several reasons, I will no longer be writing Carl at theatrical_muse.

*sigh* I'm in the process of dropping a couple of my muses, but this one makes me particularly sad, as it is less for the sake of time...and more because of my inability to get on board with what they're doing to what used to be one of my favorite shows.

It's become really difficult, and frustrating, for me to be able to write Carl and particularly to then fit that into the context of prompts. It's especially hard because he's a character that I've truly come to love, in a fandom where he's essentially been used as a prop and it's easy for him to simply be this hated killjoy and not the complex character I know he really is.

That being said, I'm not chucking Carl out the window -- I just don't know the frequency that I will write him or play him. I actually have a couple of possible storylines for him of my own making, for the future, depending on how this season turns out.

My frustrations with the show and fandom aside, I have loved interacting with the people I've met in the context of playing Carl at TM, particularly mr_colbert, alan_shore and ilookgreat. I hope to still chat with you guys, and Carl will probably leave an occasional comment.

From the Desk of Carl Sack...[open RP thread]

Sat, 16 Feb 2008 19:37:24 GMT

[OOC: I meant to put this up after Carl's last post, so uh...bendy-time...]

For Wednesday, February 13th.

On Carl's voicemail, and on his office email's AutoReply is the following message:

You've reached Carl Sack. As of Wednesday evening, February 13th, I will be out of the office until next Monday, February 18th. If you need to reach me, do it before 6pm on Wednesday, as I will not be taking phone calls, except in cases of emergency, while I am gone.

OOC: So yeah if anyone wants to drop by his office or call him "before Wednesday the 13th at 6pm", feel free to comment.

216. Impossible

Wed, 13 Feb 2008 22:41:42 GMT

OOC: First of all, HUGE spoilers for 4x13 Glow in the Dark. Secondly, this was ridiculously difficult to write and I'm still processing in my head a lot of the ramifications of last night's episode, so bear with me. Also, while the entry is locked, OOC comments/feedback are MUCH appreciated.

I had convinced myself I wouldn’t be a third wheel if I joined them at the Bailey. At the least, I could follow up on that schoolgirl gasp she’d given at the sight of him. I could find out if it really was just shock, or if there was something more.

And then as I neared the bar, I glanced up, through the window, and I had my answer.

Something more.

The look of adoration she gave him was different than the looks she gives me. It was much like the time I saw her with Denny on the couch.

She needs more than me. If dangerously self-confident, cartoonish is what she wants, well then she can have it. And in being honest with myself, I know that I need more than her.

The bottom line is, I don’t want to be her safety net, her “rock” as she called me. I’m the serious, staid one – at least, I have been for her. I am a colleague-turned-eventual-lover, the practical choice in a world where the impractical choices have broken her heart or driven her crazy. But she loves them nonetheless, or else why would she work at Crane, Poole & Schmidt? Why would she surround herself with the unwaveringly (and yet oft-laughably) confident Denny Crane and the sometimes fallaciously confident Alan Shore?

I don’t fault her for it. The heart, as the cliché goes, wants what it wants. As I told her, she wants someone to complement her life, not to be a part of it. And again, if that’s what she wants…well, I want her to be happy. I want myself to be happy

I will not apologize for being unafraid to express my concerns with our relationship, to self-doubt, or to doubt her.

The part that bothers me is that I asked her what she wanted, I gave her the opportunity to tell me, and she refused to choose.

And so I chose. I made the decision neither of us wanted to make, but that in the end, I think, will both see is the right one. The practical one.

And then…she turned on me. The woman in that room was not the same one I’d known all these years. That, more than the fact that she will never look at me the way I’ve looked at her, has left me – dare I say it – heartbroken.

The hero of a classic novel, in discovering that his lady love was not, in fact, the woman he thought she was, said, “all this together most grievously convinced me that I had never understood her before, and that, as far as related to mind, it had been the creature of my own imagination, not [her] that I had been too apt to dwell on for many months past…”

Unlike the man in the novel, however, it is not that I do not wish to have known her. I only wish it had ended differently. Seeing as how it has not, I will go forward from here, as only one can do at a juncture like this. My future at Crane, Poole & Schmidt, at least in the Boston office, is tenuous at best. I can’t say I’m overly surprised, or that I’m terribly bereft.

word count: 545

The Super Bowl, Part II

Mon, 04 Feb 2008 05:54:19 GMT

Forget the half time show. It was more like Tom Brady and the Heartbreakers tonight.

And what do you know, I won the office Super Bowl pool.

OOC: *cries* Well at least CARL is happy about tonight's outcome. I'm not. :(

214. To be great is to be misunderstood...

Tue, 22 Jan 2008 21:57:59 GMT

He was a senior partner. He had won a ridiculous amount of cases in his time as a trial lawyer, logged an uncountable amount of hours at the firm’s various branches. He went wherever they needed him to, did the dirty work that no one wanted to.

Carl Sack was defined by his job and he was okay with that. In the legal world, he was great.

That is, until he came to Boston.

In Boston, it seemed it didn’t matter how ridiculous you were or what a mockery you could make out of the Constitution. You could be a helmet-wearing, homophobic, gavel-abusing judge and still, no one said anything. You could be a once-great, losing-his-mind, joke of a man…and still. No one said anything.

And yet try to enforce the rules, try to win with a modicum of dignity…and no one liked you. They respected a man for saving salmon but save an endangered rooster and they made cock jokes the rest of your life.

Word Count: 166

The Superbowl

Mon, 21 Jan 2008 04:40:05 GMT

I'm sure it'll make me ~~even more~~ unpopular around here, being as how this is New England and all, but I'll say it now.

Go Giants.

OOC: Oh, that KILLED me to write. For the record? The writer says, GO PATS!

210. Predicting the future (post and an open RP thread)

Thu, 03 Jan 2008 02:46:07 GMT

Carl stared at the Magic Eight Ball as he leaned back in his chair, feet propped up on his desk.

“Okay, ball,” he muttered to the toy, “Show me what you’ve got. Odds of Shirley dropping me by the Spring.” He shook the thing and then made a face at the answer. “Too soon to tell? What kind of crap answer is that?”

…he was talking to an inanimate object. He sat up straight, clearing his throat.

“As long as you don’t start having feelings for the inanimate object, you’re good,” he told himself. And then he wondered when he’d begun talking to himself.

He took a deep breath. He told Shirley he would try and he was. He really was trying.

After glancing at the Magic Eight ball again, Carl reached over, picked it up and stood. He went out of his office and to the empty break room. With an amused look, he set the Magic Eight ball down on the table, then walked out of the room.

OOC: The Magic Eight Ball is open for questions! Even if your character isn't in the BL-verse, feel free to have them walk in to the break room at Crane, Poole & Schmidt and ask a question to the Magic Eight Ball. I will answer all questions posed to the ball with an answer/prediction/rude remark. Happy shaking!

word count: 270 (not counting OOC, obviously)

209. What are you afraid of?

Thu, 03 Jan 2008 02:27:01 GMT

[[Locked]] [[OOC: However, OOC comments are welcome!]

I am afraid of growing accustomed to living in Boston. Not just the view of the Charles River or the skyline or the food – but the firm, as well. I do not want to get used to the zaniness. While it does help the workday to become more tolerant of my surroundings, I don’t want to become light on my feet, complacent.

I’m afraid of waning in value. I’m a lawyer—of course I view myself in terms of value, net worth, assets and liabilities. Being held in high esteem is important to me. I am a confident man but like any normal human being, I allow my worth to lie in what others think of me. Here, I am the fuddy-duddy, the killjoy, the man who has failed to get through (well I think perhaps I’ve reached Katie at the least. Maybe Jerry, after he felt the need to go hide under my desk).

Most of all, I am afraid of losing myself here. Honestly, I’m afraid of what’ll happen if Shirley finally tires of me. It’s not that I can’t live without her. It’s that I don’t want to. There is part of me that wonders if New York will be waiting for me if Boston falls through. Always have a back up plan – that’s me, the man with a plan. Until now.

Word count: 225

204. Sometimes the appropriate response to reality is to go insane

Mon, 26 Nov 2007 00:44:10 GMT

[locked to everyone but tough_schmidt ]

Edwin Poole went insane a few years ago. It was a big deal. So big they had to bring in Shirley to the Boston office. And now here I am, several years later, another person brought in to the Boston office because yet another founding partner has…lost his marbles.

I’m sure Denny’s clinically sane, but there’s no other wording I can think of for his recent behavior.

A long time ago, we were colleagues. We ran in the same circles. We even had mutual friends. I have to admit that even I admired the great Denny Crane. That is, when he was still the great Denny Crane. Before the ego got to him, in those golden years when his record meant something and was more than just a good example of nepotism at its’ worst.

He could have gone into his older age with dignity and grace, and instead…he’s become a joke.

Perhaps this is why I cannot deal with him in very long bouts. Perhaps this is why it is easier to join those mocking him than try to take him seriously.

I did try to be serious. More than once, I have tried to reach out, have tried to get through to him. I saw the look on his face when he saw Shirley and I kissing and even I have to admit that it was heartbreaking. But he’s really brought it upon himself. And even after all the threats of shooting me, and the indescribable manner in which I’ve been treated since arriving here, I still tried to reach out.

And what did he do? He farted. While looking at me with that indignant, smug little smirk, he farted--practically in my face.

Well, Denny Crane, unfortunately your farts do smell, just like everyone else’s.

And so here I am. The last bastion of sane in a crazy-torn firm. Well. Aside from Shirley, that is. She’s the real stronghold.

[Word Count: 322]

I -KNEW- it!!

Fri, 16 Nov 2007 05:41:18 GMT

carl_sack_esq's LJ stalker is ilookgreat!

ilookgreat is stalking you because they have nothing better to do with their time. They are also stalking you in real life. Look out!

LJ Stalker Finder
From Go-Quiz.com

Relative Values -- an RP thread for alan_shore and displacedspace

Fri, 16 Nov 2007 05:14:41 GMT

OOC Note: Joey Heric is a recurring role that John Larroquette played on The Practice. Joey is a happy-go-lucky and yet deeply troubled sociopath who has gotten away with murder more than once. You can see clips of his run on The Practice here. tough_schmidt and I have been bouncing around the idea of "What if Joey was related to Carl?" and this is the result. For my purposes in the TM-verse, Joey Heric is Carl's cousin. tough_schmidt will be playing Joey, using her NPC journal displacedspace .

Carl Sack: *Carl is in his nice big office, doing paperwork*

Joey Heric: *Joey swirls in and flops down into a seat*

Carl Sack: *looks up, eyes narrow in contempt* Joey.

Joey Heric: Carl. Dear, dear cousin Carl. Did I tell you how *happy* I was that you were back in Boston?

Carl Sack: *flat* Who'd you kill?

Joey Heric: And hello to you, too.

Carl Sack: No, seriously. Unless you've come to tell me you've reformed your ways. *eyeroll*

Joey Heric: Reformed? I'm sorry, what do I need to reform? Have you turned anti-gay? Oh, speaking of that, LOVE the new girlfriend. Very butch.

Carl Sack: *glares* Shirley is not butch.

Joey Heric : Au contrare.

Carl Sack: *pinches the bridge of his nose* What's going on, Joey? Why are you here?

Joey Heric: Can't you believe I might want to say hello?

Carl Sack: No, no I cannot believe that. What do you want?

Joey Heric: What does any man want?

Joey Heric: *looks at Carl, closely* Actually, come to think of it, I realize how attractive you ARE, Carl. You remind me of someone I'm *very* fond of.

Carl Sack: *glare* Yourself?

Joey Heric: That would be him, yes. *grin*. Intriguing.

Carl Sack: *Not. Amused*

Joey Heric: *eyesecks*

Carl Sack: Cut it OUT. Besides being terribly narcissistic, that's incestuous. Get a mirror or something. You know, we have a client who's obsessed with inanimate objects. Maybe you should try that.

Joey Heric: I've always thought you were very wooden. That's what I'm trying now.

Carl Sack: *facepalm*

Joey Heric: Anyhow, I'd have to get rid of Mr. Schmidt....is she accident-prone?

Carl Sack: *soooo not amused* Joey, if you're only going to be a pain in the ass, you can leave now.

Joey Heric: It hurts a little, at first...

Carl Sack: *eyebug*

Joey Heric: But trust me, you'll LOVE it.

Carl Sack: *pursed lips* I don't have time for this, Joey. What are you here for?

Joey Heric: You hired my lawyer. I'm very annoyed.

Carl Sack: Excuse me?

Joey Heric : I had another little inconvenience, and I didn't feel like dealing with it myself...I had an attorney I preferred using, and then I found YOU had wooed him away.

Joey Heric: You know I'm the jealous type.

Carl Sack : Inconvenience? *stares* You mean murder?

Joey Heric: That's slander.

Carl Sack : Joey, I'm serious.

Joey Heric: Until it's ruled a murder, it's not a murder.

Joey Heric: But yes, there's been a death, and yes, the oh-so-tiresome police are involved.

Carl Sack: *sighs* Who's your lawyer?

Joey Heric : Lovely little fellow named Espensen.

Carl Sack: Jerry Espensen is -your- lawyer? Why? Because defending yourself wasn't fun enough?

Joey Heric : It *is*, but...it can be so lonely. Besides, I'm not the suspect. Yet.

Carl Sack: ...but you're coming to us...just in case? To what? Clear your innocent name?

Joey Heric: I am innocent. Legally, my hands are clean. I remain unconvicted.

Joey Heric : Well, of murder. The blue laws....*smirk*

Joey Heric: Besides, I loooove Jerry. Where else can you find someone who literally jumps when you say jump?

Carl Sack: *chin tuck* If you're charged with anything, Jerry Espenson is -not- the man you want defending you...now...hypothetically....what...would you be being charged with?

Joey Heric: Maybe....interference....disturbance of a crime scene....defiling a corpse.....premeditated murder

Carl Sack: Maybe?

Joey Heric: Conspiracy....Who knows how these DAs think?

Carl Sack: Right. Like I said...Jerry...Jerry's in the minors, Joey. This sounds like a major league crime that we're...hypothetically...talking about.

Joey Heric: Besides, there are plenty of other suspects. Better suspects.

Joey Heric : Her brother. He's a hammer murderer...Ooops. That was our little secret.

Joey Heric: Oh, by the way, I have a new boyfriend. He's terrific.

Joey Heric : A little OCD about things, but we all have quirks.

Carl Sack: Great. *sighs* You know, I think I have the perfect lawyer to take your case...should there be a case...

Joey Heric : And let's not forget her husband. He's a doctor.

Carl Sack: *facepalm*

Joey Heric: Do you think I should date a doctor?

Carl Sack: I thought you had a boyfriend...

Joey Heric : Would you rather I brought him to Thanksgiving?

Carl Sack : ....I'm not going to the family Thanksgiving this year. And now I have all the more reason not to.

Joey Heric: Neither am I. I wanted to eat at your house.

Carl Sack: You're not invited.

Joey Heric: I don't think that's a good idea.

Carl Sack:: Was that a threat?

Joey Heric: Yes! *big smile*

Carl Sack : *blinks, slightly creeped out but..used to it* Lovely. Like I said, I have a lawyer who'll take your case with joy. Hell, he'll probably be thrilled for you. Give me a moment. *picks up his phone, dials Alan Shore’s extension*

Like this office needs an excuse to dress up and act nutty...

Wed, 31 Oct 2007 06:23:41 GMT

Ah, Halloween.

I suppose I ought to find some villainous costume to put on.

*eyeroll*

202. Winning at life

Sun, 28 Oct 2007 22:42:36 GMT

He glanced across the bed at the sleeping woman who lay beside him, her hand out, reaching for him slightly in her slumber. Yes, when he looked at her, he knew that he was winning at life. What he worried about—silently, never aloud, because when you admitted to fear it became real—was that sooner or later his luck would run out.

Carl Sack would never tell you that it was luck that put him where he was today. No, outwardly he oozed confidence. So much so that one would never even question him as to how he got to where he was. He was here because of his own brilliance, because of his own shrewdness and hard work.

In the quiet of the night, where he was alone with his thoughts, Carl Sack wondered when the tide would turn. It always did, and he was always ready for it. You couldn’t go through life thinking you were invincible, a la Denny Crane. Yes, Carl reveled in his successes and yes, much of the confidence he oozed was real. But in those moments before he fell asleep, when his thoughts were hazy, blurred by the events of the day and of the etherealness of the cloud of blond hair next to him, Carl could not help doubting himself. No matter. When he woke, confident as ever, he would still be winning at life and his doubts would be gone.

Words: 240

201. Loss

Sat, 20 Oct 2007 06:06:23 GMT

OOC: Okay -- so this is the first time I've written something with Carl that's not based mainly on a reaction to something from the show. I'm going out on a little limb here without knowing much about him, so I hope this turns out all right. Feedback welcome!

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant 
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

(from The Art of Losing by Elizabeth Bishop)

He stared out the window of his huge corner office. It was supposed to be magnificent. But the skyscrapers didn’t loom high enough. The sky was too bright and even with all the noises of the city, there was something missing.

There was color, to be sure, but it was different. Gone were blinking neon signs and splashes of yellow as taxi cabs zipped by. In their place were dour dusty brick-red buildings that had been there for centuries, cobblestone paths that converged at important historical sites.

He could do dour. He knew how to be old-money when it suited him. But there was a certain sharpness missing. The edge—the bigness—of New York City was gone. He had the feeling at times—especially when within the walls of Crane, Poole & Schmidt—that he was not in the big-leagues any more.

While he enjoyed the quiet – the peace of his tastefully decorated brownstone – Carl had to admit occasionally longing for the more eclectic bachelor pad he’d left behind in Uptown Manhattan.

Of course there was a reason he’d left the City. He didn’t prefer the apartment over the brownstone any less. But he much preferred her over any apartment, any place, really. And that made up for the loss—at least he told himself it did.

218

What happens at Crane, Poole & Schmidt....

Mon, 15 Oct 2007 07:00:12 GMT

OOC: This was a joint collaboration/RP, so thank you to the writers of: alan_shore , mr_colbert and tough_schmidt /slightly_jumpy for allowing me to post this here.

Standing in the middle of the Crane, Poole & Schmidt lobby, Carl Sack looks with distaste at the poster that Stephen Colbert holds out.

Carl Sack:*groan* This isn't costing the firm money, is it? We're not dealing with potential lawsuits from this, Denny.
Stephen Colbert: No one's sued. So far we've only received positive feedback. And my name's Stephen, not Denny.
Carl Sack: I wasn't addressing -you-, Colbert. I was addressing -Denny-. Or has he had to have someone become his legal guardian now?
Stephen Colbert: Denny's not here, genius.
Carl Sack : Whatever. I just assumed he was lurking somewhere. You're both alike. It doesn't really matter.
Stephen Colbert: We are alike except in the sense that I am vastly better looking
Carl Sack: Which isn't saying much.

Stephen Colbert: Says the man with no pigment in his hair
Carl Sack: I'm secure enough in my own good looks to not need hair dye. Besides, Shirley likes it well enough.
Stephen Colbert: Unlike most, the Shirley card doesn't work on me
Carl Sack: *smirk* Lovely. My point is still the same--I don't need hair dye or face lifts...*little laugh* I can't say the same for Denny...
Stephen Colbert: Denny doesn't do facelifts, it's Botox. Really now, if you're going to be a high class lawyer you have to know these things.
Carl Sack: Considering I've never needed it? I don't need to know. Ah, botulism. Well that explains a lot.
Stephen Colbert: You've never needed it, but I'd imagine you'd have to deal with the industry in lawsuits
Carl Sack: We don't take -frivolous- lawsuits here. *sarcastic* And unless there was money on it, that's the sort of thing I pass on to my minions--I mean, junior associates.

Stephen Colbert: I remember Ms. Bauer taking a plastic surgery case. Does she count as a minion?
Carl Sack: Bauer? I don't think I've heard of her....plastic surgery is one thing. Injecting something that's related to biological warfare into your body voluntarily is another story.
Stephen Colbert: *beams as if this is a compliment* Wouldn't expect anything less from Denny!
Carl Sack:*incredulous stare*

Stephen Colbert: Why do people always give me that look?
Carl Sack :I can think of several reasons. At the moment, I'd say that one would have to be insane to think biological warfare in one's body is a good thing. *suspicious look* What's next? Anthrax in the Halloween candy?
Stephen Colbert: *shocked* I'm no terrorist! Biological warfare in the body goes on all the time. Most people call it antibiotics.
Carl Sack: You were talking about botulism, not penicillin. *makes a face*
Stephen Colbert: *waves a hand* Botulism, penicillin, close enough. They both have vowels and consonants.
Carl Sack: *blinks* They do. Roosters have eyes and a beak. I guess that makes you and them practically cousins.
Stephen Colbert: We're all God's creatures you know

Carl Sack: *smirk* And God does have a sense of humor. Look at the platypus.
Stephen Colbert: I was thinking of fireflies. Their asses GLOW
Carl Sack: Ah, yes but you can catch them and use them for light.
Stephen Colbert: Until they die and your kid cries because they killed their nightlight
Carl Sack: *snort* I don't have small children.
Stephen Colbert: You don't have your own spawn? How else do you train an army?
Carl Sack: *blinks* Army?
Stephen Colbert: My kids are not only citizens of the Colbert Nation, but founding members of its military too
Carl Sack: ...that's.....frightening.
Stephen Colbert: *points* It's practical
Carl Sack: Practical to train your children for armed warfare?

Alan Shore: *wanders in* Stephen. Carl. How go the plans for world domination?
Carl Sack: Oh, if I told you, I'd have to kill you.

Stephen Colbert: Not going too well, Carl doesn't believe in the Colbert army's ideals
Carl Sack: What can I say? I think children with guns are best left in third world countries.
Stephen Colbert: I'm just training them at this point. They're only allowed to have super soakers.
Alan Shore : You could probably successfully invade Luxembourg with those.
Carl Sack: *eyeroll*
Alan Shore: I'm beginning to wish I had one now...
Stephen Colbert: A super soaker?
Alan Shore: Yes. An army of children would only force me to take them all for ice cream.
Carl Sack: And curse benevolence to children. *flat*
Stephen Colbert: I have plenty of water guns stashed away in my personal armory. I'll bring one for you
Carl Sack: I have bear mace. It's rather useful around here.
Stephen Colbert: It is useful everywhere
Crane, Poole & Schmidt Intern: *runs by, screaming* MY EYES!!
Carl Sack: ....I should really keep that in a safe place. Interns are like three-year olds when it comes to things they shouldn't touch. Or maybe he just saw Clarence on YouTube.
Alan Shore: Maybe I should run and check whether Denny has his pants on...

Stephen Colbert: One of your employees is on YouTube? I thought that was a showcase for ME
Alan Shore: Viacom thought otherwise.

Carl Sack: ...Denny damn well better have his pants on. And if he doesn't I hope he's nowhere near my mace....amusing as that would be.
Stephen Colbert: Wait... mace works differently if you don't have pants?
Carl Sack: ...depends on where you aim it.
Stephen Colbert: What about if you aimed it at your balls?
Carl Sack: I don't know--why don't you try that on yourself and tell us how that works out.
Stephen Colbert: No thanks. Alan, wanna try?
Carl Sack: Denny claims to have balls of steel. I say you let him have a go.

Alan Shore: ...once you're elected, why don't you fund a scientific study.
Stephen Colbert: We should, I'd rather not have Denny spray himself. We can't impair such a great man, just in case there are any negative side effects. We should spray willing volunteers who are dedicated to the cause

Shirley Schmidt: *walks up to the trio*...I heard mace, balls, and Denny.
Carl Sack: .....ah. Shirley. *smiles*
Shirley Schmidt: Carl. I don't know what you're discussing, but stop it.
Carl Sack: *blinks* I thought freedom of speech was still numero uno in this country.

Stephen Colbert: We're conducting a scientific experiment. May I spray your balls, Shirley?
Shirley Schmidt: We're playing in the grown-up end of the pool, remember? Unless you'd like that to STOP.

Shirley Schmidt: *glare* Excuse me, Mr. Colbert?
Alan Shore: *stage whisper* You'll have to excuse Shirley, Stephen. She's in awe.
Carl Sack: Of what? His small stature? *smiles*

Stephen Colbert: You do have rather exquisite femme-balls. Your gravitas in the courtroom shows that they are of size that would be useful to spray in such an experiment.
Stephen Colbert: *scowls* My stature is majestic.

Shirley Schmidt: Femme....Stephen. I’m going to assume you were interviewing Willie Nelson again.
Shirley Schmidt: *looks at Colbert's fly* And it's not so majestic from where I'm standing.
Stephen Colbert: *grins* but you looked
Shirley Schmidt:Yes, I did. And it didn't burn like mace. Was that the question?
Carl Sack: *smirking*
Stephen Colbert: *to Alan* She shows her awe in a funny way...
Shirley Schmidt: Thank GOD Denny's not here. It would be like a junior high school with viagra in the water fountains.
Alan Shore: ...completely redundant?
Shirley Schmidt: Don't you three have work to do?
Stephen Colbert: You're not the boss of me.
Shirley Schmidt: Obviously. Your boss seems to be *checks his fly again* out.
Alan Shore: Perhaps he's gone fishing.
Stephen Colbert: *takes the hint and pulls up his zipper* You know the saying: "It's not how deep you fish, it's how you wiggle your worm"

Carl Sack: *shudders* Please let's not discuss Viagra and Colbert OR Denny's balls any more. And I -am- working. Unlike some people at this firm, I'm always working.
Shirley Schmidt: Yes, Carl, and we're all so proud of the way you handled the cock.
Stephen Colbert: He's not handling MY cock.
Shirley Schmidt : He's very good at it.
Carl Sack: The only person who could have done it better would have been you, Shirley. We all know how good you are at....*stops himself*
Shirley Schmidt : *GLARE*
Carl Sack: *smiles* Winning cases.

Shirley Schmidt: I heard the point of contention was that the losing cock had its HEAD PECKED OFF. Imagine that.
Carl Sack: *loses a little color to his face, looks....slightly frightened* Yes, well. *clears his throat*

Shirley Schmidt: Oh, Alan, how IS Lorraine?
Stephen Colbert: Who's Lorraine?
Shirley Schmidt: She's an associate who's been working very closely with Alan...
Carl Sack: *P.A. voice* Clean-up on Elevator 2....
Alan Shore: *helpfully* And also a region in France.
Carl Sack: Oh, I'm sure she's known in regions of France.
Shirley Schmidt : There's nothing wrong with France, despite what Denny says.

Stephen Colbert: Somehow I don't think the Lorraine they're talking about is French soil, Alan.
Alan Shore: I think...I think perhaps you shouldn't be jumping to conclusions, Stephen.
Shirley Schmidt: Alan? You mean you haven't told Stephen about Lorriane?
Alan Shore: *miserably* ...the region in France?
Stephen Colbert: *crosses arms* Are you keeping things from your co-BFF?

Shirley Schmidt: No. The charming, intelligent....*lovely* young woman you've been working on...I mean, with. *thinks: and THAT's for the pregnant comment!*
Alan Shore : One day you'll admit the only reason you brought her here was so that you could watch me squirm.
Shirley Schmidt: That was an image I didn't want, Alan.

Stephen Colbert: *directly* Alan, are you doing her?
Alan Shore: No! Not...currently.
Shirley Schmidt: You mean not at this moment.
Carl Sack: *watches, amused*
Alan Shore: *frowns* Not at this moment, nor in ten minute's time, nor in...an hour...
Shirley Schmidt: This evening?
Stephen Colbert: But she's your screw buddy.
Shirley Schmidt: *eyebug*
Stephen Colbert: Are your allergies acting up, Shirley?
Alan Shore: *hisses* She is not my anything!
Shirley Schmidt: That's an indelicate way to put it.
Stephen Colbert: Delicacy is for losers. I'm a winner.

Jerry Espensen: *Jerry Espensen walks by in time to hear "screwbuddy," EEPS and hops away FAST*
Stephen Colbert: If she's not anything why is everyone talking about her?
Shirley Schmidt: I see why Denny likes you.
Stephen Colbert: *waves cheerily at Jerry before he hops away*
Jerry Espensen : *Jerry may be dead of embarrassment*

Alan Shore: *desperately wants to headdesk*
Stephen Colbert: Anyone with taste likes me, just ask Carl.
Shirley Schmidt : I don't want to taste you. Right now, I don't much feel like tasting Carl.
Stephen Colbert: Would you like to *shameless plug here* taste some Americone Dream Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream?
Shirley Schmidt: I eat Haagen Daz.

Alan Shore: *pulls out a pack of gum* Chiclet?
Stephen Colbert: Ooh, I'll take one!
Shirley Schmidt: No, thank you. Why have you and Denny been chewing those so much?

Carl Sack: *looks up* Just ask Carl what?
Stephen Colbert: You must not be American if you don't like Ben and Jerry's

Stephen Colbert: *to Carl* I said that you have taste
Carl Sack: I -do-.

Shirley Schmidt: I take issue with their enforced citizenship policies.
Alan Shore : *hands a piece of gum over to Stephen and pops one--no, two--in his own mouth*
Shirley Schmidt: Also, I'm surprised you support a Vermont based company, Stephen....surely it's not because they appealed to your vanity?

Carl Sack: Don't tell me that Denny told you that Chiclets quell lust. *scoffing*
Alan Shore: I don't chew and tell.
Carl Sack: Please. He's been pulling that since...forever. Chiclets indeed. The real question is why his -mother- was the one who shared that advice with him. *shudder*
Alan Shore : *to Carl* No, the real question is why he chose to share it with you.
Carl Sack: Did I say he chose to share it with me? I did not.

Stephen Colbert: *likewise pops the gum in his mouth* I have no vanity, I'm the most humble person on earth!
Shirley Schmidt: I see. Where do you keep the award for that?
Stephen Colbert: On my award showcase shelf of course!
Shirley Schmidt: I'm sure it's quite tasteful.
Stephen Colbert: *points* NAILED YOU! I said that I knew you had taste and you tried to deflect my comment. I. Win.
Shirley Schmidt: Stephen. That is the ONLY way you will ever "nail" me. Congratulations.

Stephen Colbert: Don't kid yourself, I don't want to nail you in the other way. My wife has much less wrinkles.
Shirley Schmidt: Very gracious of you.
Stephen Colbert: Always. *bows with a flourish*

Alan Shore : Is the youtube video already up, then?
Carl Sack: Of?
Alan Shore: *to Carl*...nothing. Forget it.
Carl Sack: *looks suspiciously at Alan*
Alan Shore: *offers Carl gum*
Carl Sack: *smirk* Thanks, but unlike some people, I don't need to hide my attraction to the object of my affection....
Alan Shore : *laughs* I suspect the object of your attraction may take issue with that
.
Carl Sack: *looks at Alan* It only makes her more attractive when she's all riled up.
Shirley Schmidt: *glares, warning tone* Carl.
Carl Sack : I'm getting hotter just standing here.
Stephen Colbert: ...You're not trying to turn me gay are you?

Shirley Schmidt: *grabs his ear* Senior partner, Carl, senior partner.
Carl Sack: *winces*
Alan Shore: This is so enormously unfair.

Carl Sack: I wasn't talking about -you-, Colbert....obviously....*manages to step away from Shirley, straightens his suit, then mumbles* I think I need a cold shower.

Stephen Colbert: *looks at Alan and speaks in anguish* I don't know what to do anymoooore!
Alan Shore: I hear bear mace works just as well.
Carl Sack: Har har. You try it first.
Stephen Colbert: I thought we agreed to try it on interns.
Shirley Schmidt: And here we are again back at the bear mace. No one is trying anything on interns....
Alan Shore: I have my own homeopathic remedy. Courtesy of Denny.

Crane, Poole & Schmidt Intern:: *the hapless intern walks by, being blindly guided by an EMT*
Carl Sack: ...too late.
Shirley Schmidt: *eyebug* CARL!
Carl Sack: ....he was like that when I got there.

Stephen Colbert: *points and laughs at the intern*
Shirley Schmidt: If this costs the firm any money...
Carl Sack: He signed an accident waiver form upon his hire, didn't he? *brow raise*
Shirley Schmidt: That's not the point!
Stephen Colbert: Yeah, the point is we have beings to work with in our experiments!
Alan Shore : One day they'll rise up against you. Just ask Stephen about Tad.
Stephen Colbert: Tad hasn't risen up to do anything other than get me coffee.
Shirley Schmidt: *looks like she wants to strangle all of them* Back to work. You're wasting valuable company time. *checks her watch* And I have a meeting. *turns to go*

Carl Sack: *little wave*
Stephen Colbert: *beams* She still can't tell me what to do
Carl Sack: Can anyone, Stephen? Other than...*indicating his fly area* Little Stephen?
Alan Shore: Thank God you didn't call it "Stephen Jr."
Stephen Colbert: *glowers* My penis is NOT Stephen Jr!
Carl Sack: Junior would imply it could rise to the stature of whatever is Senior of it *scoff*
Stephen Colbert: Stephen Jr is my SON, stop your disrespectful talk!
Carl Sack: *hands up* I didn't say he couldn't. I said Little Stephen couldn't.
Alan Shore: I said nothing! You know how much I adore Stephen, Jr.
Carl Sack: *snort*
Stephen Colbert: I don't blame you, Alan. He still asks for your bedtime stories
Carl Sack: That's...special.
Stephen Colbert: *glares at Carl, still assuming that everything that comes out of his mouth is an insult toward his son*
Alan Shore: Oh, is he back in the states?
Carl Sack : I have no qualms with your son, Stephen. Your penis is another matter.
Alan Shore: What'd Stephen's penis ever do to you?
Alan Shore: ...you know what, I don't want to know.
Stephen Colbert: For now he is, hopefully he doesn't try to run away again.

Carl Sack: *snort*
Stephen Colbert: Don't hate my penis because it's beautiful. Hate it because your girlfriend openly ogled it.
Carl Sack: No, I believe she said it was so miniscule she couldn't be bothered with it. *smirk*
Stephen Colbert: *rolls eyes* That's a standard insult. I think you both need to learn some creativity
Carl Sack: *smirk*
Stephen Colbert: I could hold a workshop. You'd get a free tshirt of course
Carl Sack: "Intelligent Insults the Colbert Way"?
Stephen Colbert: Exactly, with segments addressing the ever important finger point and eyebrow raise
Carl Sack: *sarcastic* You should trademark those before some other schmuck gets a similar idea.
Stephen Colbert: Already done. haven't you heard of the Col-brow?
Carl Sack: No, I haven't.
Alan Shore: Probably because no one but Stephen can use the phrase without paying a premium.
Carl Sack: And I'm sure you took care of all the legal work with that.
Stephen Colbert: And what incredible legal work it was
Carl Sack: I'm sure you and Alan do lots of incredible legal work together.

Carl Sack : Tell me, Stephen. If a scandal should erupt with you at the center--would they call it...Colgate?
Alan Shore: Think of all the people you could sue for trademark infringement--a college and a toothpaste manufacturer.
Carl Sack: Or they'd sue him.
Stephen Colbert: *smiles at the remark* Indeed they would, but I would never get into a scandal in the first place. My morals are much too shiny clean.
Carl Sack : Much like so many Colgate-cleaned teeth. *dry*
Alan Shore : I smell an endorsement deal.

Stephen Colbert: And the college could escape my scorn if it gave me an honorary degree
Carl Sack: *mutters* He -would-...
Stephen Colbert: I'm sorry, please speak up. I can't hear you over the roar of my success.
Alan Shore: I have a very sensitive nose. Don't make fun.
Carl Sack: *mutters* Massachusetts quack jobs, every one of them. *and then, more audibly, with a smile* Nothing, Stephen. Just thinking of all the interns I still need to terrify today.
Stephen Colbert: But you're talking to us because we're more interesting than interns
Carl Sack: I find you absolutely fascinating. In the same way I do my can of bear mace. Or a discussion with Denny Crane. *flat*

Alan Shore: ...you're curious as to what would happen if Stephen were applied to your balls?
Carl Sack: NO.
Stephen Colbert: I KNEW he was trying to turn me gay!
Carl Sack: I find my bear mace novel. I also find Stephen rather novel.

Stephen Colbert: *eyes Carl* ...you weren't a baby carrot in your past life were you?
Carl Sack: ....why would I be a baby carrot?
Stephen Colbert: No reason. Just asking.
Alan Shore : What terrible thing could a baby carrot have possibly done to merit reincarnation as him?
Stephen Colbert: Maybe it didn't get along with the other carrots in the package
Carl Sack: Please. If I were going to be reincarnated as a vegetable, I'd at least be a cucumber. A robust cucumber.
Stephen Colbert: you aren't being reincarnated, the baby carrot was reincarnated as you
Carl Sack : Whatever. The cucumber would be reincarnated as me, then. *eyeroll*
Stephen Colbert: No way, you're definitely the carrot.
Carl Sack: Who died and made you Buddha?
Stephen Colbert: Buddha.
Carl Sack: Riiiight.

Much as he wants to continue this enlightening conversation, Carl is called into a meeting himself and leaves shortly after, bidding Mr. Colbert and Mr. Shore goodbye, at least for now.

200. Question (or, "It's Bad to Be a Chicken")

Sat, 13 Oct 2007 07:06:23 GMT

Crinkle, crinkle. Ahhh, the sound of a $200,000 check being tucked away in my pocket. That was a rather satisfying win, I must say. Good for Mr. Obispo—may he find a new cock and live happily ever after with it. Ah, the joy of a man and his cock. Oh, pull your minds out of the gutter. I’m talking about the rooster.

Did it take much effort to pull it off? No, not when you have the magic of the Internet (I do so enjoy Googling) as well as that special something. Oh, you know—that ability to not make a fool out of myself or hawk myself like a product, the ability to refrain from saying my own name more than fifty times a day.

Too bad Denny didn’t have the gall to do it himself. There are literal chickens and those who are afraid of a challenge.

Either way, all the research that had to be done did some good—I don’t think I’ll be eating poultry for awhile.

(172)

198. Superpower

Tue, 02 Oct 2007 09:23:44 GMT

Okay, so this got a little off-track from the original prompt. Sue me. No, no--sue Carl. Thank you to tough_schmidt for her assistance with the Shirley parts of this.

Carl stood in front of the mirror in his nearly-all-chrome bathroom, shaving his barely-visible five-o'clock shadow. He glanced over at his companion, who was brushing her teeth. "You know, I just had a thought."

"Carl," said Shirley, after spitting out her toothpaste, "You know I wish you wouldn't. It's dangerous. Let me handle that."

He smirked. "I'm not Denny Crane. I'm quite capable of thinking for myself." Nicking himself slightly with his razor when he smirked, he reached for a piece of tissue, dabbing at the skin.

She sighed, setting her toothbrush back in its’ holder. Better to let him get it out of his system. "Go ahead."

"I'm guessing that Denny still makes the entire firm go to that ridiculous Halloween party?" he asked, putting on aftershave lotion.

"I think it's good for morale," she glared. "I suggested people attend."

Carl rolled his eyes. "Well in that case, we should find matching costumes or some such nonsense. What do people wear for Halloween these days? In New York City, it's just an excuse for 20somethings to dress sluttily."

"Only you could dismiss the Greenwich Village parade as an excuse for exhibitionism." Shirley opened the medicine cabinet and took out a couple of Excedrin from a giant bottle. May as well start now, she thought.

"Oh, come on now." He peered over her shoulder, looking at their reflections in the mirror. "I could be Captain America and you could be Wonder Woman..."

"I'm not so sure I should be that exposed....and Captain America?" She raised a brow.

He stepped aside and puffed out his chest. "Or Superman, perhaps."

"Carl, for me, please...underwear on the inside of the pants, all right?"

He gave her a mock-glare. "Fine. But can I keep the x-ray vision?"

Shirley shook her head. "I had no idea you wanted to go around staring at people's skeletons."

This time his glare was real. "Well do you have any better suggestions?”

"I don't know, Carl.” She was losing patience. “Did you really have to have superpowers?"

"Yes." His voice was serious.

At that, she paused. "Any reason why?"

"Would you rather I cross-dressed and pretended to be part of some 60s girl band?" he asked.

"It's been done," she smirked. "Pass."

Putting on a crisp white shirt over his undershirt, Carl gave an annoyed grunt. "Then what would you suggest?"

"I don't know,” she said, smoothing her blouse. “Somehow I never pictured you as wanting to be anyone else."

"Yes, I'm perfectly secure in who I am." He buttoned his shirt. "But I would hate to crush morale." He snorted, unable to get through the sentence with a straight face.

"I thought you lived for that." Shirley looked at him across the double sinks.

"Yes, well...it's Halloween.” He frowned. “The freaks have to have -one- day to fly their flags. As if they didn't already."

"Carl!” Her tone was a warning. “What did we say about that word?!"

"...which word?" He backed up a step, knotting his tie. "Halloween?"

"No, Carl. The F-word. I was very clear about that." She glowered.

He rolled his eyes. "What? They ARE."

"Do we need to go over the needlessly-blunt conversation again?"

He sighed, straightening his tie. "No. Let me rephrase." He stared at her a moment, getting distracted. "You should be a judge with that tone of voice."

"Don't think I haven't considered it," she broke into a grin.

He smirked. "You'd scare the socks off anyone stupid enough to challenge your authority."

"You won't sweet-talk your way around me yet.” Shirley applied her lipstick carefully. “Keep trying."

"Yes, yes,” he said dutifully. “Back to the subject at hand. Are you saying I'm scary enough to go as myself?"

"Well, to be honest, you've already established yourself as some kind of monster," she chuckled. "Jerry Espenson's scared stiff at the mention of you."

"As he should be," Carl said. "So, what kind of a monster am I, then?"

"It depends who you ask. I imagine the associates see you as the grim reaper. Denny probably thinks of you more like a vampire - he hoped you were gone, but you're back for more blood." She put a hand on his shoulder, "I don't think you're so bad. Frankenstein's monster was actually quite misunderstood."

He thought about that for a moment. "Thanks...I think."

"Oh, come on, I could be the Bride of Frankenstein."

He smirked. "You could indeed. I think you'd be able to give her a certain class."

"Why, thank you.” She smiled. “I think."

As he finished getting ready, Carl paused, leaning down to kiss her cheek. "Come on. The fre--associates--are waiting."

"Play nice with the villagers, Carl." Shirley took his hand. "As long as they don't have torches and pitchforks, we're fine."

Carl sighed as he exited the bathroom. "I'll try."

(words: 805)

OOC: Contacting Carl!

Tue, 02 Oct 2007 05:49:01 GMT

If anyone wants to chat with Carl, or has OOC stuff they need to discuss off-LJ with me, the AIM screen name for this journal is sacksinthecity1. Feel free to IM!

197: Is there anyone in your life who you feel is exceptionally wise?

Mon, 01 Oct 2007 00:15:29 GMT

Yes. Me. I am the wisest person I know. I have always been aware that Paul Lewiston, Shirley and I were sailing a ship of fools. Never have I been more aware of that fact than during this week. I had heard there were problems at the Crane, Poole & Schmidt Boston office. That’s what you get with Denny Crane. I have thus far in my career at this firm been content to keep to the New York office—until last month when Shirley asked me to assist at the helm in Boston.

What’s that saying? Jokers to left of me, clowns to the right? Nowhere is it truer than at this…alleged law firm. If it isn’t Alan Shore cavorting in the elevators with opposing counsel, then it’s Clarence…no, Clarice…clogging up the Internet with his rendition of Big, Blonde and Beautiful. Not to mention Jerry Espenson and his tap-dancing and…purring, was it? I’ve given up trying to keep track of these peoples’ idiosyncrasies. I didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry when Espenson and Clarence started tapping together. As that may be, I’d still retain the tap-dancing twins over Crane any day.

(word count: 197)