I hung the rip-out juror badge they sent me as part of the jury duty letter with some scotch on the dick of my
jeans and went in.
He scanned me and said in a far-too-humanely voice for security at a courthouse
Security: “Good place to put it.”
I gathered by his tone that something was off, and then I heard the echoing UnDeRtone.
All words grouping together in a slimey way. Anyone knowing he wanted to say it louder but
didn’t. Seemingly already knowing the almost-definite likeliness of a sweeping retort.
Scared and way to used to being fucked in the ass by what one says. It’s a killer, and the
reason you’re life is a turd son.
Me: “The time you guys made me get up, it’s the only place to stick it.”
I intercepted and caught a quick defensive glance and everything returned to normal on his part.
The Inner Shit Security Mindset: “Fuck, you’re right, I am a piece of shit, I’ll back off now”
I imagined behing said by that primitive instinct in his head. The one that somehow got him to consider, with full seriousness, a career in Courthouse security.
Some people say you’re a sheep and other say that the system is constantly fucking you in the ass.
I like to think that people like Him are sheeps getting fucked in the ass. A sad combination of both.
Just enough gullibility (sheeps) to let them fuck you in the ass on an oh so consistent basis.
It was an even jollier time from that point on.