On Tuesday I fulfilled my civic duty by serving on a jury in a civil trial. One party was suing another over medical expenses related to a vehicle accident. I was hoping go get some good writing material from this experience for a future story. Unfortunately, they kept repeating boring stuff like facts and details (which they referred to as evidence), while we jurors were forced to employ match sticks to keep our eyelids from slamming shut.
I did meet some interesting people and shamelessly promoted “The Perils of Heavy Thinking” to the rest of the jury. They looked at me like I was from another planet and rolled their eyes. But when the time came to elect a foreman, I was the only nominee. I found out later this was an act of self-preservation as unhappy litigants often kill the foreman first.
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, the Hanging Judge who hates dangling participles is Chief Justice Bobbi Jo Wisoff-Fields. If you’d like to participate in this exercise in madness, head over to her blog for step-by-step instructions. To view the FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
Jake’s mother constantly warned him about the dangers of fire. She refused to let him go camping with other boys his age.
“Nothing good can come of it,” she said. “Those boys will poke you with a stick while sitting around a campfire.”
She really threw a hissy-fit when a neighbor girl invited him over to make Rice Krispy treats. “Of course she says you’re sweet and that she loves you,” said Mom. “She just wants your body.”
Tired of her overprotective ways, Jake Stay Puft attended a wedding reception. Unfortunately, Mom failed to warn him about fondue pots.
For those of you who aren’t familiar with the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man here’s a picture.
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This is the blog of a woman who is seriously on the edge and I mean right ON the edge…no, not there… just a little bit further… further than that…no, further still…just a tiny bit more… just move slightly to the right a little…no, that’s too much…just move a tad to the left…that’s right, just there…now you’ve moved too far to the left… Damn, what part of the ‘on the edge’ do you not understand? Oh, and her matricidal boy genius, come devil spawn.
Or the three people I guilted into reading this blog, whatever.
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