Quickies

Civic Duty

[Editor’s Note: Please welcome our new guest author, Molly!]

By Molly

It’s 9:13 am, this place smells like a hospital and there are people all over looking for a secluded seat; an oasis in this little desert of the legal system.

The woman in front of me is cheating on her word search.

The guy behind her is wearing brown Mandals (men’s sandals) with thin, black socks. I shudder.

The mandals by themselves were too much to bear. Help me, Keanu.

The mandals by themselves were too much to bear. Help me, Keanu.

This is going to be a long day.

As I sit reading “Tales of Ordinary Madness” by Charles Bukowski, I wonder if they’ll pick me.

There’s an announcement stating that there will be a film presentation explaining this process. I start laughing because her voice reminds me of the announcer from The Hunger Games. Jesus Christ, now all I can think about is how this could be the Hunger Games, and we’re in the 18th District. There’s a chance I’m not going to make it out alive.

Our battlefield.

Our battlefield.

I don’t know what the first five minutes of the video explained, because I was too busy planning how to handle the current situation. Mandals is first to go, based on his fashion choices alone. I’d pull an Old Yeller on his ass and take him behind the shed. I’ll have to keep an eye out for the Cheating Word Search Lady. She smells of Grandma with a slap of shiftiness. She’s the last person I’d trust in this death arena because she is cheating on a fucking word search.

No word search will help you when the shit hits the fan.

No word search will help you when the shit hits the fan.

I decide that the guy closest to me is going to be my ally. He’s wearing all black with heavy duty sneakers. He didn’t bring anything to keep himself occupied, not even a newspaper. I watch him scan the room and chew his peppermint gum. He must know something I don’t.

I need to get out of here. All these sleeping people are fucked. Same for the uptight chick with the designer flats and bag. One person is pacing back and forth. He doesn’t know this but he is also another ally, mainly because he seems incredibly alert.

It’s only 10:15 and I’m about to lose my mind. I need a smoke. I should have gotten high before my “civic duty”. But then I’d probably be the first one from District 18 to be slaughtered.

All I’m saying is that they better fucking pick me for a trial. I know how to read people.

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