Imagine his surprise 45 minutes later when he opened the door expecting to see a beautiful, rock-hard 22-year-old blonde wearing an overcoat and little else, but instead found Lloyd R. Billings, Esquire, wearing a powdered wig and carrying a briefcase. “At first I was like, okay, role-playing, I’m down with that.” Sizemore admitted. “But then he started talking, asking me my social security number. I was like, oh, shit, that’s a dude! 046-38-5587.”
“I’m an attorney at law.” Billings offered without being asked, and as if attorneys were ‘at’ anything other than ambulance chasing and general douchebaggery.
Two hours later, having paid the same hourly rate he would have to get his rocks off, Sizemore showed Billings to the door. Then he turned to show off the fruits of their two-hour encounter — a last will and testament, a living will, the makings of a family trust, and some other unnecessary documents.
“Well,” Sizemore said. “I needed to have that done anyway. My wife will be pleased … Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go rub one out.”
