New York Narrative

My childhood friend used to be a big liar. He’s not anymore. He’s what I call a reformed asshole. He didn’t have much of a chance though, as you’ll soon realize.

He grew up the youngest brother of three. He was scrawny and always had to fight to prove himself, until he began to realize his mind could protect him. So it was always my brother was a Navy Seal he will kill you and your family if you punch me. Or my brother is a black-belt.

His brothers had no idea their younger brother was talking so much about their fighting prowess. In fact they were fairly good students and not really tough or mean at all, but since they went to a ruff highschool and Chad was still in middle school, no one knew the difference.

One day we came back from school, heading in the direction of Chad’s house, when we saw his brothers shoulder to shoulder walking up the sidewalk, more like stomping. They each had bloody noses and black eyes. They told us they ran into some kids cousins who came looking for the tough guys who were going to beat the crap out of them. Chad had tortured their younger brother while he was pissing in the urinal, until he pissed down his jeans. It was Chad’s Vulcan death grip. When this kids cousins came for redemption, Chad just claimed again his brothers were fighters. They found out the truth, as did his brothers.

He stopped lying about his brothers after that.

First I would like to thank everyone that has been contributing to New York Narrative over the last couple of months.? I hope this site has been fun for you.? If you have any suggestions please feel free to comment at the bottom of this story.

?Let me introduce this story.? I have been sitting in jury duty for the past three days at the Bronx Supreme Court.? This is a fictional piece based on my experiences here so far.

David arrived in the Bronx early one morning to go through the very unpopular process of being chosen for jury duty.? To his surprise the area was filled with court houses.? Hardly anything else stood out in the area besides a small park, some lawyers’ offices, and many signs in bright lettering offering bail bonds.?

All this was shadowed by the famous Yankee stadium which was conveniently located near the courts, probably to remind the rowdy yank fans that getting sloshed at a game and disturbing the peace would land them only blocks away in New York City’s legal system.

As David sat and waited to be called up for jury selection he noticed one court house worker who seemed happy about his job.? This was a surprise because every other government employee at the court house was either rude, inpatient, or plain mean.? The worker, he noticed, seemed to enjoy the company of all the people around him.? The worker’s name was Charles.? Charles was very happy.

When David asked Charles why he seemed to have a different attitude than the other people working there, the worker said,

“Today is the day, 20 years ago, that I decided to work here.? I was being convicted of a crime and was released by a jury of my peers.”?

This man chose to participate, for 20 years,?in the very same activity that most citizens can’t stand, because he was?positively affected by the judicial system.?Could it be that all the other workers had also been affected by the judicial system, but their outcomes where undesirable?? David did not think so.? They just didn’t get what Charles understood.? He knew that he was helping people get justice.? The others around him felt they were just dealing with an anoying people that were just as unhappy as they themselves were.? David felt this was the reason and decided to believe in Charles, and the judicial system that freed him 20 years prior.