12-019

 

Call of Duty

Last month I did the unthinkable - for the first time in years I took a day off work for no reason whatsoever.

I intended to just laze around all day, but true to my nature I filled the whole day with ‘must-do’ chores.

I ended up spending a total of 4 minutes and 34 seconds at home, during which time a crafty court marshal managed to serve me with a summons for jury duty!

Nice!

It’s now three weeks later, and I’m in the court’s corridor waiting for my fate to be decided. 

Earlier this morning, I had to wade through flooded roads to make it to the Courts on time, and now there’s not enough space for all of us to sit, and I could murder a coffee.

I also need to visit the ladies room, but I can’t leave my prised seat, so I shift and slide holding it in as astutely as I can, but we all know ‘you can only fight nature for so long’.

Another hour has passed and my bladder is threatening to acquire a life of its own, so against my better judgement I rush to the toilet.

‘Holy...!”

With one glance inside the door, my reflexes tell me to hold my breath in, to touch nothing, and do my thing as quickly as possible. This is where my African toilets experience comes in handy.

With a relieved bladder and a mild case of asphyxia, I rush out of what can be literally described as a s**t hole, and as expected my seat is now occupied by two men who have somehow squeezed into the space of a petite butt.

Finally we’re being called into the court room, all of us looking as pale as death itself.

In full view and earshot of the accused, names and surnames are being randomly drawn out of a list. The defence lawyer is also asking potential jurors where they work and whilst some of us are being kept on the panel others are being sent home.

I’m starving, and my body is about to take matters into its own hands, so I let my mind wander away….

Did I switch off the heater this morning?

Which level of the car park did I park my car in?

Wow! The accused is good looking.

Oh! wait a minute....is that my name being called out?

Yes it is...

I walk to the middle of the court room and wait for the questions to start.

I’m still wandering though...

....why is it so absolutely necessary that the accused knows my name, my surname, what I do for a living and where to find me between the hours of 9am to 5pm?

I’m now being jolted out of my daydream by the sweet angelic sound of the prosecuting lawyer!

‘I object!’ she says, and before I know I’m being whisked out the door.

 So life continues as I know it.... until the next time of course!