Jury Duty

When you die, I know what happens. Most of us aren't good enough to go straight heaven, and were not quite bad enough for hell...so lets be honest here, were going to Purgatory. I'm like 90 percent sure that Purgatory is the DMV. You get a number and just sit there and wait....and wait...and wait. I truly hate the DMV. Well; jury duty is basically the same shit. I woke up today at 7 AM and made my way to the Brooklyn court house. I had my MP3 player on the whole time as I strutted in. My plan was to act like the biggest, cockiest, prick in the world, in hopes that I wouldn't have to serve. This wasn't that much of a stretch for me. I didn't even walk, I strutted about like 2Pac and had my music blasting the whole time. I cursed excessively. I sat so low in my chair I was practically laying on the floor, and I kept both feet up on the chair in front of me. Take notes people. You don't get out of this shit by talking, its all about the body language. If you lie and say your a racist or something, they will fuck you over. Anyway, 50 of us got called in to the go to a court room. It was a real ragtag bunch of people, and one of these guys had to be homeless. Nobody wanted to wait for the next elevator, so I swear, all 50 of us crammed into one. It was a real melting pot of cultures. White kids, old black women, spanish kids, Hasidic Jews, suburban moms, a mafiaso man in "construction", and that homeless guy, who I got stuck pressed up against. Finally we got in and it was time for questioning. People tried to weasle their way out, and some succeeded by talking about relatives in law enforcement. The case was for gun possesion. It was some black Beanie Segal look alike, who apparently had a gun in a school zone. He was also from Brownsville. Shit. If I lived in Brownsville I would carry a gun too. I could care less that he had a gun, as long as it was for protection, who really cares? Ok, so he was in a school zone. According to my research, black kids don't shoot up schools; Its the whites and asians that do that. Now this is where the story gets really good. The whole time since I walked in and sat down, I noticed this kid staring at me. I was unfazed and stared right back at him, and soon enough we were grilling more then George Foreman. I could sense that there was tension and a little hostility. After a lot of questioning, we were allowed a break to go to the bathroom or whatever. I picked up my MP3 player and put the shuffle on. The kid got up, while our eyes were still locked and walked out of the courtroom. I skipped to the next song and Journey's "Don't Stop Believing" came on. I watched as the homeless guy scrunged up some newspapers to use as a pillow, and began to take a nap on one of the benches. The mafiaso man was reading the New York Post, but I guess he could see me looking and his eyes leered over at me, I quickly turned away. I watched the lawyers as they talked to the judge about their picks, and eyed down each one of us. The one lawyer pointed right over in my direction, and said something as the judge nodded. The song was now picking up...."The Movie Goes On and On and On." All of a sudden I looked over and saw the defendant come walking back in again and he