Well, Excuuuuuuuuuse Me

Tuesday, August 5
Dear Diary: It's Tuesday again, and that dear Judge Strand has dismissed a count against Fife. You know, when I wrote a gossip column in Chicago, I met a count once. The judge said people in the audience shouldn't laugh at Fife anymore. Chow mein, I think.

Wednesday, August 6
Dear Diary: Closing arguments. That George Cardona was talking for the prosecution all the livelong day. He didn't talk that much during the testimony. I guess he was saving his voice. He has a nice voice, but he was prattling on that Fife's Arizona missions weren't missions at all, but were fraud. He said Fife's a liar. I know he's not. Otherwise, how could he have won the governorship? I accidentally took a nap, and dreamed I was necking with Paul Harvey. Now that man has a voice! Tater Tot casserole.

Thursday, August 7
Dear Diary: John Dowd gave his closing argument today. He reminded me of Reverend Watson back in Chicago. That man could preach the horns off a goat, but he also had a problem with the sauce. Anyway, I got tingles several times today, but once was when my Depends sprung a leak. I probably shouldn't have had that Sanka. Fife was sniveling toward the end, which made me a little misty, too. The other jurors were whispering, "Wimp, weenie, wussyboy," and other snide things about Fife, but I think it's nice that men can cry nowadays. I don't care what the government says, I know Fife didn't blow up that federal building in Kansas. Chicken fried steak.

Friday, August 8
Dear Diary: OK, we're almost done. Mr. fancy boy Shingler gave his closing argument. He said Fife and Dowd are trying "to blame the dead guy." Who died? This isn't a murder trial. He claimed that Fife wanted to sell his real estate. Well, pshaw. That's not a crime. Liver and onions.

Monday, August 11
Dear Diary: I had several long talks with Chuck over the weekend. He said to follow my heart (I didn't tell him I've got a pacemaker). I told him they'd have to throw me off the jury before I'd see Fife in prison.

Anyway, we got to deliberating this morning and the jury foreman says, right from the get-go, "This guy is a scumbag and he's guilty on every count." Then he started chanting "Guilty! Guilty! Guilty!" and pounding on the table, and then everyone but me started chanting it and pounding on the table. Then I started shouting "Not! Not! Not!" right before they all said "Guilty!" because he's not guilty. He can't be. I mean, most of these people voted for him. Go figure.

We gave each other foot massages all afternoon. Cobb salad.

Tuesday, August 12
Dear Diary: Today we took some votes and after every vote I said I change my mind. Everyone got really mad at me. Then I suggested that instead of filling out paperwork, we all go out in the jury box and sit down and then they'd ask for all the people who vote guilty to stand up. And we'd all fake like we were going to stand up and pop up and down a few times like they do on that game show "To Tell the Truth." They all hated that idea.

So I tried to explain that all Fife was doing on his financial statement was outlining his Arizona missions. And Juror 44 gets right in my face and says, "You dunderhead! They're talking about ERRORS AND OMISSIONS." I got really flustered and said there's no way Fife killed the Lindbergh baby. KFC.

Wednesday, August 13
Dear Diary: To release some of the tension, we all decided to go to lunch today at the Matador. I remember when the Matador opened. It's a Mexican restaurant. I had chili relleno. Toot, toot! Send in the firetruck!

Then when we went back to the jury room we all formed a circle and one by one each juror got into the middle blindfolded and stood stiff like a board and fell around the circle and everyone on the ring caught them with their arms and wouldn't let them fall. The jury foreman said he'd learned it at church camp, and that it's sensitivity training that will make us trust one another. I didn't go in the middle because of my arm and because I heard two nasty jurors say, "Yeah, we'll catch you, Mary Jane. Yeah, that's the ticket." These people are evil. After that we played liar's poker for the rest of the afternoon. I didn't get it.

Thursday, August 14
Dear Diary: I've figured out what the problem is, and it's real scary. I added up all the numbers of the other jurors AND THEY ADD UP TO 666! That means everyone else on this jury is the anti-Christ and that Fife is probably the Messiah! I guess that would also mean Dowd is the angel Gabriel and Judge Strand is Snuffleupagus. Of course, the Messiah wouldn't have done all the hemming and hawing Fife did on the stand. He just would have shot Shingler with a bolt of lightning and turned the rest of the jury into swine or something. All day long when anyone looked at me, I just held a crucifix up at them. Bread and wine.

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