Phil Lamont spent his afterlife being the attorney for the damned. Each and every damned person got maybe ten minutes in court to plead his case before Saint Peter, except it was never Saint Peter but some saint from the Middle Ages that no one had ever heard of standing in. I think it was mostly Saint Canute. Well, it was some guy who had an old-timey Anglo-Saxon name that sounded like a bowl full of consonants.
It was Phil's role to plead the case of each and every one of them - and there was a damned long queue of the damned - And the thing is, they were already damned. so no matter how hard he pleaded, no matter how many rhetorical tricks he tried, no matter how many emotional pleas he made (albeit insincerely), the answer always came back the same.
"Damned."
"Damned."
"He is SO damned."
"Damned."
"Damned damned damned."
"Ten minute recess - nice tie, Phil. How's the wife and kids? Now where were we? Oh yes - damned!"
The trouble is, Phil had been told that if he could ever successfully plead the case of even one of these lost souls, he would achieve recompense for his own sins and get to enter into heaven, so he threw himself into every case with everything he had. Damned fool - didn't realize he was already damned. I don't know if Saint Canute was in on it - he seemed nice enough. But damn, Phil - get a clue. You were a LAWYER in your former life.
Damned. Damned. Ironically damned. Damned.
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