I was gonna write about this last night, but I got caught up in a story and forgot to. Suddenly it was 2 am and I was so very tired. So now I shall write about jury duty….

First thing’s first: I didn’t get selected. I am a reserve juror, however, meaning that if any of the regular jurors or their alternates for whatever reason can’t make it in, the court can call me in to work. In this scenario, I could be there for a few days or for as long as a month. I’m not really concerned, though. I’ll probably never be called, but if I am, I at least get a week to two weeks notice.

It was a bitch getting to the courthouse. I’ve been to the federal building before to re-apply for a social security card, and it’s just down the street from where I was supposed to be. But once again, I didn’t trust my instincts and so I started to drive in the wrong direction. Part of the problem was I couldn’t reconcile the map provided with my knowledge of downtown Dayton. It’s stupid, yes, but in my mind the two contradicted each other. In fact, I’m still not sure the map is correct.

It’s funny: everyone outside the courtroom was damned unfriendly. From the parking attendants to the building security, they were all gigantic douchebags, and I’m considering sending in a complaint. But the Jury Selections guy, Don, and Judge A.J. Wagner were great. The courtroom was stifling hot, and Wagner kept cracking jokes about it. He cracked a lot of jokes actually, and made a Star Trek reference too. You could tell who the geeks in the room were, too, as we were the only ones laughing. Me and about six other old guys.

The experience was surprisingly not unpleasant. I was a little anxious about being selected, but the proceedings were conducted expeditiously and in a relaxed atmosphere. My fellow Potentials seemed pretty much normal, no crackheads, except for one guy that everybody was pretty much openly laughing at by the end of the day. He was an old, whiny, and monstrous blob of a creature, whom I shall hereafter refer to as Cthulhu.

Cthulhu first attracted notice after I’d been there about forty minutes. Judge Dredd Wagner had just asked, “Is there anyone who cannot serve because they are caring for another individual?” (He asked a number of these questions throughout the session.) A few people had answered, and then it was Cthulhu’s turn.

He was quiet for a moment, and then he said hoarsely, “My…my stepmother is living in my living room on my couch.” And then he started sobbing. The other Potentials and I sort of looked at the entity with disbelief and annoyance, and that’s when the murmurs began.

“Jeez, this guy is gonna be high-maintenance.”

“And the best actor award goes to some jackass.”

Finally, Judge Wagner asked Cthulhu, “Uh, okay sir, so you’re caring for your stepmother then?”

“Yes sir,” Cthulhu said, still sobbing.

“So who’s caring for her right now?”

“My wife, sir.” He started coughing, and reached inside his coat for a conveniently placed tissue. “She’s not working right now, and I need to retire before Friday or I lose my pension.” He blew his nose, and then started shaking, he was crying so hard.

“Okay sir,” Judge Wagner said, “that’s been noted. Who’s next?”

I know it seems like I’m probably exaggerating Cthulhu’s…quirks, but I’m not. I am damn near quoting that motherfucker verbatim. More time passed, and then Judge Wagner was asking us about our thoughts on the death penalty.

With the exception of one woman, whose father-in-law had been murdered years before, everyone who spoke out was against the death penalty. The one woman thought the victim’s family should be able to do the same thing to the murderer as was done to the victim, sort of an eye-for-an-eye deal. It’s a viewpoint I am not entirely unopposed to. But those who said they wouldn’t be able to levy the death penalty — even though Judge Wagner reminded us we would be a grand jury, not a petit jury, and we wouldn’t be sentencing anyone, only charging them — said it was because of their “Christian beliefs.” It was all I could do to not openly snort in derision. I’m not entirely sure how to snort derisively, but boy did I want to. Anyway, this is when Cthulhu again made a scene.

I was sitting near Judge Wagner, and I swear I could see him faintly sigh when Cthulhu raised his mighty, tentacled extremity. “Go ahead, sir,” Wagner said.

“Well, your honor,” Cthulhu began, and then incredibly the sobbing began again. “I don’t think…anyone has the right to take another person’s life.” He rubbed his knuckles into his eyes, clearing out the tears of unbearable despair, and then added, “For whatever reason, God takes some of us and leaves some of us behind. He and Jesus…they just work in mystical ways.”

“Thank you, sir.” Judge Wagner looked over at the assistant prosecutor who had been standing next to the…uh, judge-podium-thing. The AP shook his head very imperceptibly. I knew then that Cthulhu was probably out of the running.

More stuff happened, but it’s all pretty boring. Even more boring that the tale I just related, if you can believe it. But what’s cool is that when I went into Wal-Mart to drop of my proof of serving, our Personnel manager told me that I get paid for my full shift that day. So I got eight hours of pay for sitting in a sweaty, cramped room and listening to an otherworldly creature blubber shamelessly. And that’s pretty awesome. At the very least I got a post out of it.

JAB