In the Beginning...

It was the best of times; it was the worst of times. We were just stupid birds, sitting happily in our own predator-free pens and getting fat on pre-killed undergraduate fish. We were optimistic college graduates, ready to spread our wings and take flight, thinking that working for justice would somehow justify the grueling hours and mind-dumbing drudgery of paralegalling. We were told we were "scholars," that the process of selection was "competitive," and that we would make lots of money on "overtime."

Fly away little birds, fly away! That was the plan. However a few days on the job, we came to the startling realization that our wings were being amputated. Slowly, painfully, with a dull rusty blade. We were becoming flightless, wingless birds. Yes ladies and gents, we were becoming penguins, shackled by a two year commitment, doomed to waddle interminably around the office facing the perils of “Oh My God, It’s Midnight and I Still Have to Alphabetize and Index the Contents of 357 Boxes of Arcane Documents for Trial Tomorrow” with aplomb. We tackled “The Printer Jams of Death” and the “Psychotic Last-Minute Whims of Attorneys Who Think We Can Alter the Space-Time Continuum.” Indistinct from the rest of the pack to our supervisors, we learned that paper cuts, redwelds cut deeper, and “that would require me to clone myself” is not a valid excuse. We handled hundreds of kilos of weed, bled all over court exhibits, and spent our Saturday nights sharing beers in random conference rooms. In time, we developed a distinct itch. Maybe it was from the cheap cotton of our “I just graduated” suits, but eventually it began to burn when we pee.

In short, we became Penguins with Chlamydia. Reality was our slutty, diseased seagull. Escape may be our penicillin.