I parked my time machine in the municipal courthouse lot.
Jury duty.
It took hours for everything to be explained, then my group went to a courtroom.
Voir Dire. Question time. They try to weed out the biased and smart aleks.
It wasn’t until they brought in the defendant that I asked to be excused.
“That’s me,” I said.
The judge didn’t believe me.
“Fine,” I grumbled.
As foreman, I made sure the jury found me not guilty.
Excused, I went back to the municipal lot, saw the parking ticket, and growled.
I’ll just pay the fine this time, okay?