Camelot Circuit Court
SUMMONS FOR JURY DUTY
By Authority of the Highest Heaven, the Trees in the Wood, and Your Own Stupid Volunteerism:
You are hereby summoned to appear at the Green Chapel in less than a Year’s Time on Christmas Day, or at Least by the Epiphany, whenever that is. Notch a rune on your Stone Henge equivalent. Set a meeting in Microsoft Teams. Do not oversleep. Light a candle. Hold out for roosters. Light more candles. Do not hit snooze. Time, it has been said, is wax falling on termites.
Your designated day of Service is the day you show up—but do show up. You agreed to this—you noble coward you! (Do keep in mind Christmas Day sometimes falls on a weekend. Traffic could be heavy. True loves are gifting. Maids are a milking. Not all roads coordinate with satellites. Accidents occur with great frequency during the Solstice.)
Since trial duration varies depending on whether jurors choose to attend, whether jurors attend while wearing collared shirts, whether necks are thickened from curls, whether the Green Knight is tired from the day’s docket, you may be required to report for more than one day. But that almost never happens.
Keep in mind Court can adjourn in an eye’s blink. Should your services be required for more than one day, you will be put up in an Airbnb. The Court will not pay for your stay. You can pay for it through a vague commodity exchange of natural acts (including but not limited to innuendo involving a possible menage a trois and/or a stag hunt. Foxhunts are also possible. Who can say? Does the animal getting killed really matter here? A good Christian Knight is on trial). Trust the law on this. The law fought the law, and you can probably guess who won. But also keep in mind the Court is highly unlikely to need your services for more than one day, if even a whole day. We all know where this is headed.
Check all belongings at the door, although we admit the task of telling where the wood ends and the chapel begins is a slippery tale in deed as well as thought. Even trees make their way into lodgings this time of year (and not for burning). The old ways are never too far. They may even light the way.
Bear no other’s undergarments. Are you on trial? Is a test a trial? Answers are lost in all antiquity. Ask Jeeves. This duty for which you volunteered fulfills some secret desire in terms of service. Having courted a land free from transgression, you must pay for transgressions with a head for a head. Do not lose yourself in thought. Do not distract indeed.
Do not bother with ID. When a head rolled across the floor at last year’s holiday party, your Heineken-glazed face with smoking thigh of turkey etched into my eternal, all-encompassing sense of self. You will not be forgotten. Did you see how green I am? My mother must have been a tree. My green eyes locked onto not so green eyes, and we all know eyes are the window to a dimwit’s soul. Did you understand the responsibility when you hefted the ax? Good luck on your travels. Consider the quickest route to a year’s time. Justice is a pressing matter.
Do not cry. Or do.
JUROR INSTRUCTIONS
Settle all debts and have your last Will & Testament in order. Spend the year calling loved ones. Issue apologies for wrongdoings. Inform your superiors. Do you have Sick Leave? Take that trip you never planned. Pick up new hobbies. Sharpen dull edges that might be lying around with Truth—you never know when time permits delivery on said promises. Check into that castle hotel. Don’t be a boar. Seriously, make the most of everything. Sit down for one last meal with Mother. Relish her pasta. You only get one chance and then you are out of the pool and alone in the deep end. Lucky you, right! Do not miss your chance. Opportunity knocks every semester. You cannot audit Experience. Visit the library. Pray.
Do not heed Ol’ Dirty Bastards. Do NOT protect thy neck.
Confirm receipt. Bow your head. You cannot contact us at http://GreenChapel.CamCourts.org. We are a poorly staffed nonprofit. We are in the middle of nowhere. We are on dialup, as in we observe sundials. Send a bird—we beg you to deliver before the circle is complete!
Attire: No turtlenecks. No sweatpants.
Lunch: Unnecessary upon early arrival. Otherwise, brown bag it. Sometimes we order Panera.
Cell Phones: We are off grid.
ON YOUR DAY OF SERVICE: Bring that heavy axe.
Concerns should be nonexistent by now. Your life is in fate’s hands, which is a lot like embracing your nemeses, your ex-lovers, your bosses and subordinates, your silent ancestors, your unborn children, wild beasts and domesticated pets. You are the noble nephew! That means you are no afterthought. Your eyes and ears are the heart of the whole shebang. (Then nothing.)
We accept neither credit nor crypto. The jury cannot be hung. Verdicts only now. Verdicts and conviction. Bring your convictions.
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Bryan Harvey‘s writing has appeared in McSweeney’s Internet Tendency, Heavy Feather, HAD, Cold Mountain Review, Florida Review’s Aquifer, Juke Joint, and Bull. He lives in Virginia and tweets @Bryan_S_Harvey when he’s on ice from a long a long run.
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image: MM Kaufman
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