This doesn’t read as internal monologue to me at all; it reads as someone speaking aloud, but “to herself”, i.e. in an undertone, maybe muttering, not apparently directed at anybody else.
Yep. The man fitting that description had the last name, “Figgus”. He looked like he lived in a record store back in 1985. He fell asleep and snored loud enough to make me think that the drunk tank and jury pool were combined do to cut backs.
I totally hear the Roscoe P. Coltrane “Gew gew gew gew!” laugh when I read this.
I swear I want to firehose half the jury selection pool every time I get a summons.
This doesn’t read as internal monologue to me at all; it reads as someone speaking aloud, but “to herself”, i.e. in an undertone, maybe muttering, not apparently directed at anybody else.
Yep. The man fitting that description had the last name, “Figgus”. He looked like he lived in a record store back in 1985. He fell asleep and snored loud enough to make me think that the drunk tank and jury pool were combined do to cut backs.