The Vanishing Act

“Hey, Gary. I’m your lawyer, nice to meet you,” said this mysterious man.

“Uh, I have a lawyer?” Gary realized those words found the exit from his brain to out of his mouth, instead of staying on his brain’s highway like they were supposed to.

“Yes you do, I’m going to do my best to get you out of here. Now, did you do what they are accusing you of?”

“Did I murder someone? No, I did not.”

“Okay, are you sure?”

“The fuck? Yes, I’m sure.” Gary couldn’t believe he had to answer that. “Sorry.”

“No big deal, we’re adults. Okay, why were you laughing when they arrested you?”

Well, shit. Gary didn’t have a good answer for this, he questioned if a good answer even existed. Surely, some sort of psychological reason existed that explained why someone would laugh under immense pressure or in a stressful situation. 

“Oh, uh, I have a bad habit of laughing in the worst and most inappropriate situations.” Gary could feel how stupid he sounded. “This was definitely one of those situations.”

“You know how bad it looks, right?”

“Yes, I do. Of course.”

“That’s okay,” said this man who claimed to be his lawyer. “That’s okay, I can work with that.” 

“Work with what?”

“Your inability to act right in social situations, obviously.” There go his words, bursting all the bubbles, again.