Well you can all relax now. The fever has broken, the chills have warmed, the colon has calmed, and all is right with the world. After five miserable days, I think it’s over.
With my return to healthy status, it’s fairly safe to assume that no one will need to bash in my brains in another 23 days when I suddenly turn into a zombie. On second thought, maybe someone should just put a little reminder in their calendar for October 7th. You can never be too careful.
Speaking of things one might put in their calendar, I’m suddenly reminded I have jury duty. This week. Whilst (shush, sometimes I type with a British accent) my rents and the cutest Germans ever are here. Sonsabitches.
Last time I was called for jury duty, I had to serve on the Grand Jury. I was there for ten weeks. Just in case you glossed over that one, let me repeat it for you: TEN WEEKS of jury duty. TEN WEEKS.
The first four weeks were agony, but I started to see a pattern. There was one older guy in the back row, just to my left that was always a miserable cuss in the mornings. He’d grumble there wasn’t any coffee and fuss when we were called to vote. Then we’d all break for our lunch hour to sample the delicious culinary options available to us at the courthouse cafeteria or the McDonald’s across the street. Due to the threat of jail time, we’d then return to our drop-ceiling and fluorescent lighting encased room for another four or so hours of judicial fun.
The only difference was, the crabby old dude of the morning was magically replaced by a sometimes giggling, sometimes enraged old dude of the afternoon.
He seemed to sometimes have a problem with the cops that testified, leaping up to scream, “I object!” when he didn’t like their answers. When the lawyers would remind him he couldn’t object, he’d shout, “I’ll hold you in contempt!” Eventually he’d settle down a little bit, but not completely. Each and every time the prosecutor would walk in a new witness, the old dude would sit up straight in his seat and sing,”DUNG, DUNG,” in homage to the soundtrack from Law & Order.
I guess hearing words like “perp” and “evidence” for four solid weeks went straight to my head. I had to solve the case. I would follow him.
When we broke for lunch the next day, I shamelessly tailed the old dude down the alley behind the courthouse, around the bus depot, across some railroad tracks and…into a pub. [Insert heavenly chorus of angels here.]
Now, contrary to popular belief, I’m a bit of a goody two-shoes. When the waitress asked what I’d like to drink, I requested only water. People’s lives were in my hands! It would be wrong to imbibe while doing my civic duty, right?
Just at that moment, a chorus of laughter rang from the large group in the back corner. Instinctively, I looked to the noise. There sat our judge with two detectives and several lawyers knocking back a round of beers over their fish and chips.
Old dude and I spent the next six weeks singing, “DUNG, DUNG,” in harmony.