How To Get Out of Jury Duty
At some point in your life, no doubt at the most inopportune moment, you will be served with a jury summons. This is, of course, assuming at some point in your life you've registered to vote. In hindsight it will be such a silly thing. Then, there will come a moment when you receive the notice. It will come in the mail to your home, proving they know where you live. The envelope will have extra postage to ensure its timely arrival to your doorstep. You will open the letter hoping it was misaddressed, but you will know better. Chances are you will get a paper-cut during this process and blood will spill onto the summon, making a new type of contract. Escape is now impossible.
You will spend your days counting down. Food will lose its taste, water will make you thirsty, and you will become bitter towards everything. You will blame fate for giving you a summons a mere week after you retire. Retire after 50 long years of working. You knew it was too good to be true, kids grown and gone, no man to grind your nerves, no underpaid responsibilities to attend to, freedom, freedom to watch TV and become amalgamate with your sofa. You will begin to scheme. A plot will be needed, as necessity has just become your bedfellow.
The day of jury duty will begin with an ominous feeling. Persevere! You must ignore it. Today will be a day of your victory. Step one of the plan, make sure to misplace your makeup. Step two, in the process of looking for your make up you will lose your hairbrush. Given your age and the wear on your face from a tough life, you will probably resemble something like a meth head. This, after all, is a fashionable look nowadays. Just for good measure, make sure not to shower at least four days prior to jury duty.
You will arrive at the courthouse and sit with the other victims. Most will have properly prepared themselves for this civic responsibility; others will seem just as disinterested as you. The well-groomed in their suits and ties will occupy one part of the pew, the housewives and middle class citizens the middle, and toward the end you will seat yourself where you get to play the who's who of smell games. Not because you belong in this section, but because it is part of a grander plan.
As the judge enters the room, you will give him a once over, as he does the same to the room. He will sit himself above in his high perch, a shepherd overlooking his sheep. He will introduce himself to the flock, and give a brief description of why you have all gathered today. Listen only half-assed with your eyes glazed over. Make sure to save the complete lack of listening for when the lawyers begin to speak. The interrogation of the lawyers will commence, but you will be too busy looking around the courtroom to take any notice of what they are actually saying. Counting ceiling tiles will be your priority at this moment .. 44, 45, 46. The judge will clear his throat, be prepared for this."Miss, do you not take this seriously?" Point at yourself and give him a quizative look. You'll notice the slight nod of his head.
"Of course I do. What would make you think otherwise?"
"Your clothes."
You'll look down at your outfit; dirty moccasins, worn sweat pants, and a dingy white t-shirt you've used for painting in the past. "What about them?" He will roll his eyes at you, but you'll endure. "I got dressed. Normally I just run around in the skin God gave me; drooping breasts, gray hair, and wrinkles galore. Must keep the goods aired out or they will sweat and stink, you see? So the mere fact that I got dressed is proof of my dedication to this endeavor.” The judge will eye you, trying to gauge if you are serious or not. Contempt will cross his mind. Not the emotion but the judicial action. He will begin to motion with his hand that you should sit down; when a sudden sound will halt his hand and you feel his scrutinizing gaze upon you once again.
"Miss"
"Yes, your Honor?"
"What was that noise that just came from your bag?" he'll ask.
"My bag, sir?" Be sure to act innocent. Your choice of words will shape this entire situation.
"Yes Ma'am."
"Why your Honor, that is my cat, Sir Felinicuss, and the noise you heard was him talking."
"Meowing you mean?"
"No, talking Sir."
The judge will shake his head with irritation. "Regardless, why would you bring a cat into the court room?"
"Sir Felinicuss needs me, sir. Once I retired I decided I was going to take on a special needs child. Felinicuss here is diabetic. He needs his insulin at set intervals. I had to bring him with today so he could get his injections. My vet was very adamant that I should be religious with his insulin schedule. Don't want any funky glucose readings, ya see?" About this time another meow from your bag will echo throughout the courtroom. The judge's brow will furrow, his face will begin to turn red, and you'll feel a spasm of panic begin to creep up your spine, but stand firm. 'Just let me go home', you'll think.
With a sign of reservation, the judge will instruct the attorneys to question you next. He will desperately want you out of the courtroom at this point, annoyed by your appearance and your companion. At the same time he will be intrigued by how you hold yourself up and speak with no hesitations, you are so sure of yourself. Regardless of how he thinks of you, your mind will be preoccupied thinking of how the evil twins on your soap will reveal each others identity. Oooo Drama! The desire to escape this judicial prison will heighten ten fold.
The lawyers will reiterate you will be hearing a case of petty theft and larceny, a case involving stolen tires. You’ll grunt to yourself, reminded by what a waste of time this is. You mind will sweep you away; back to your home, where the TV is waiting with bated breath for your return, such a loyal device. The lawyer will interrupt your happy daydream with a tedious question, “Have any of you here today been accused of breaking and entering, theft, or larceny?” You will shoot your hand into the air faster than diarrhea shoots from a bodily orifice. ”Which one of those applied to you Ma’am?”
”Breaking and entering, Sir.”
”Were you convicted?”
”No Sir, only accused.”
”Is it on the record?”
”I doubt it, Sir. My Sister accused me of breaking into her home. Where I supposedly proceeded to fold her husband's jeans, and then left. It seems far-fetched, but you just can’t make this stuff up. And I assure you, Sir, I never do laundry whenever at all avoidable.”
The lawyer will give you a look similar to the judge. “Is that all Ma’am?” You’ll nod and sit down, with a proud grin covering your face.
The interrogations will continue from person to person and people will be excused here and there. Your anxiety will increase as the numbers dwindle, and you may in fact get stuck serving as a member of “one’s peers.” Finally, when it seems that all hope is gone, a miracle will happen.
”Do any of you here today know the defendant, John Stevenson?” A murmur will go out amongst the remainder of the flock, but ultimately no one will know him. Lean over to your neighbor and comment on how if this was a soap opera, it would be giant conspiracy. Everyone would be in cahoots.
”Do any of you here today know the victim, Alfred Roberts?” A similar murmur will spread like the plague among the sheep but you will stand.
”I was married to him!” you’ll exclaim. The attorneys and the judge will stop and gawk at you, like a charmed cobra swayed by a flute. “I swear it, check the records. It was many…many years ago, but we are still friends.”
Like a hymn to a heavenly chorus the words “You’re excused” will be uttered. Freedom will be yours. Fly quickly from the courtroom as if you’re a virgin trying to catch the bridal bouquet. In the midst of your getaway you will find yourself pondering about all that time you spent plotting and scheming, it will feel as if it’s been for nothing. Leaving a slightly bitter taste in your mouth. Persevere. Head towards home, to the TV and the newest episode of Days of Our Lives, but remember to first return Mittens to your neighbor. His identity is safe, his alias will last for another day.