Audiologist v. Auditor

The Audiologist, remembering the retainer she gave the Attorney, now finds herself in need of another attorney to seek a claim on the sum remaining on the retainer left with her first attorney. She can see her retainer, the $2,500, stuffed clumsily in the Attorney's jacket pocket, open to the air, bills flipping softly in the breeze. The thought that she may need to find the same sum to give a new attorney to reclaim the sum she left her old attorney - the Attorney - frustrates her. (Gnashing of the teeth.) Yet when she sees a petite form walking slowly yet purposefully from the road she waves and smiles.

The petite form belongs to the Auditor, a woman of professional, youthful, just-less-than-exceptional beauty.

When they meet, they shake politely. The Auditor presents her business card. The Audiologist takes it gladly, then - on looking on the card - asks the Auditor if she might recommend an attorney.

What's the issue, if you don't me asking? asks the Auditor.

The Audiologist explains.

At about this time the snow stops falling. The breeze picks up slightly.

Well, the Auditor says after some thought, I think I have a solution that might benefit everybody.

Wonderful, says the Audiologist.

But I should run it by my attorney first, she says. To avoid possible litigation, if my advice turns out wrong. Which it's certainly not. But you never know.

(The Auditor is a model of prudence.)

The Audiologist thanks her for all her help. Then she moves to the guns on the table.

They select their guns, they walk to the field, fifteen paces apart.

They raise their guns. Their guns go off.