He walked home from the grocery store with a baguette, garlic butter and minestrone soup; he licked his chops thinking about lunch. He checked the mail and there it was. It hit him like a disgruntled girlfriend on a bad date. Oh no, this looks like trouble. It was in the mail box, in a envelope, it was from the Sheriffs office. It had a Attorney Generals crest on it. He walked into his house worried and wondered what it was all about. A court summons or a witness or what? He braced himself, took a deep breath, and ran to the bathroom before he opened the envelop. When he finally did open it, it was a AP for jury duty. Relief. For stories like this and others come on down to the writers club. This Thursday at 5pm in the club room in G wing at Mohawk.
Posted on: Tue, 15 Oct 2013 18:41:27 +0000
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