“You’ve never been called for jury? I’ve been called like 3 or 4 times. I always wear the same thing : hood with spikes, baggy pants, black gloves… and I never take a shower.”
I’m just listening to John tell stories, asking questions here and there to learn more, to direct the convo, to kill sometime before we have to hop on our motorcycles and ride home, a task I’m not quite ready to face considering it’s nearing 4 am and it’s a chilly 40-something degree night.
“Yeah, I don’t dress up for court, except when I had to go for being jumped that one time…”
“See, I’m not from a good part of town. My family is kind of trashy.. like ‘my cousin vomited on my other cousin at my wedding’ trashy. Anyway, I grew up east of here in a pretty bad part area and one day I was cruising down the sidewalk with my skateboard when a little midget comes up to me and demands I give him my board. Ok, he’s not a midget but he’s a short bastard with an attitude.”
This will be interesting.
“Of course I don’t give it to him. It’s my board and he can go fuck himself. But he’s persistent and he eventually lunges, trying to grab it. I easily push him away because he’s a midget. We scuffle a little… but then he yells to his friend.”
“I turn to see this huge, tatted up bald Nazi looking guy strutting towards me. I mean, this guy was huge with full sleeves and I’m pretty sure Nazi signs all over his body.”
This story is cracking me up because John is the opposite of a fighter, always talking about the newest video games and how he doesn’t hang out with anyone besides work friends.
And now he’s about to get his ass beat by a Nazi thug.
“So this big fucker comes over and beats the shit out of me. There really wasn’t anything I could do. I tried to hit him with my board but it didn’t even phase him. It was literally an ass kicking. What seemed like hours later I emerged with a busted open face, a broken rib and a whole bunch of scratches and bruises.”
“What. The. Hell. John.”
“Yeah, yeah, it was bad. But anyway, I found out who it was and pressed charges. And this time I dressed my absolute best for court. Button up shirt, glasses, making sure to use a nerdy vocabulary. I played the innocent victim part perfectly. Exact opposite of jury duty.”
“Turns out the big Nazi bastard was actually 17 and it’s illegal to have all those tattoos. He ended up getting, like, 2 years probation and the little midget ended up doing a little bit of time. Or something like that.”
The best part is I got to keep my board which had all these blood stains on it. I had this ‘Caution Police Line’ grip tape splattered with my blood. Still have it.”