Fletcher

Felix Fletcher was known around the area as the whopper king, or king bullshitter. With a straight face he would tell the most outlandish stories, finish, pause, and then burst out laughing. Those of us who knew him thought better than to ask him why he laughed. The uninitiated would ask him why and he would simply respond with:
 “I can’t tell you. Don’t worry about it, it’s nothing.”
 This was usually followed by another short burst of laughter. The people would stand there expecting a real answer but Fletcher wouldn’t tell them. Disconcerted, they either left and called him crazy or would become so irate that they soon threatened Fletcher. Most would stop by this point and leave him unharmed but there were a few instances when Fletcher had to weasel his way out of a fight. Later, he would recount the ordeal and laugh even harder at the fool who threatened him for an answer.
 Really, there was a kind of beauty to his storytelling and instantaneous laughing. His mind was undocumented, unfiltered, and unpremeditated. Whatever went on in there was a wellspring of imagination that only he could find humour in. He would often observe obstinate and serious people in their habitat before a fit of laughter overtook him. He once explained that imagining a serious person in an unserious situation was where a grotesqueness overtook his imagination and the juxtaposition of what his mind envisioned and the reality before him caused no end to his laughing episode. What that grotesqueness was, is anyone’s guess.
 One day he was called up for jury duty, and you can imagine as well as anyone how that went. How he got through the screening is still a mystery. The judge had to call a recess on several occasions because of Fletcher’s outbursts. What was the case? A murder trial, naturally. A father was wrongly suspected of abusing his children by a neighbour until said neighbour called child protective services on the poor man. Stricken with grief at the loss of his children, the man murdered the neighbour and some office workers at the child protective services office, finally rescuing his children from foster care. If one was wrongly accused then it would be logical to prove it in court; however, the man felt he had been betrayed by the system and did not want to partake any longer in it, choosing instead to operate in his own system.
 Finally, after one particular outburst, the judge sequestered Fletcher and met with him privately.
 “Young man, I can’t have you interrupting my court any longer. Either you hold it in or I’ll have you removed and a new jury selected.”
 “I’m sorry, your honour, but the situation is so…,” again he burst out laughing.
 Those who were friends with the judge knew him to be a patient man, but Fletcher’s outburst pushed the right buttons and he exploded at Fletcher.
 Once the judge calmed down, Fletcher explained his reasoning.
 “Your honour, the situation is absolutely primeval. Here we are in the current day and you have a man disregarding law and order to set things right. It’s absolutely absurd. Who thinks to do something like that?” he gave the judge a moment to respond.
 “Clearly a man who is either guilty or has no respect for the judicial system.”
 “Errr!” Fletcher bleated, following it with a small giggle, “sorry, your honour, but that’s incorrect. I’ll tell you: it’s a man who sees the social contract as bullshit—if you’ll pardon my je ne sais quoi.”
 “I can appreciate some crass words in private, but so long as we our under this courthouse I’ll ask you to refrain from such language in the future. Now, to regard the idea of the social contract as foolish is no grounds for a legal defence.”
 “That’s correct, your honour, and that’s what makes it so funny. You don’t find many men nowadays who will do whatever it takes to make sure that the wrongs done to them by society are corrected. And we can argue till the cows come home about ‘correct’.”
 No one was particularly shocked that afterwards the judge dismissed Fletcher and called for a new jury selection. Fletcher made a big stink of the whole situation but nobody paid him much mind. As for the man on trial, he was found guilty. There was overwhelming evidence against him so it was not hard to convict him. Years later Fletcher was asked if he would have voted guilty as well, he answered:
 “Yes, I would have voted guilty.”
 “So why did you get yourself kicked off the jury then?”
 “Because I didn’t want to have it on my conscience that I sent a man to his death.”