Here the conversation…
Defense Attorney:
Will you please state your age?
Little old lady:
I am 86 years old.
Defence Attorney:
Will you tell us, in your own words, what happened the night of April 1?
Little old lady:
There I was, sitting in my swing on my front porch on a warm spring evening, when a young man came creeping up on the porch and sat down beside me.
Defence Attorney:
Did you know him?
Little old lady:
No, but he sure was friendly.
Defence Attorney:
What happened after he sat down?
Little old lady:
He started to rub my thigh.
Defence Attorney:
Did you stop him?
Little old lady:
No, I didn’t stop him.
Defence Attorney:
Why not?
Little old lady:
It felt good. Nobody had done that since my Albert died some 30 years ago.
Defence Attorney:
What happened next?
Little old lady:
He began to rub my breasts.
Defence Attorney:
Did you stop him then?
Little old lady:
No, I did not stop him.
Defence Attorney:
Why not?
Little old lady:
His rubbing made me feel all alive and excited. I haven’t felt that good in years!
Defence Attorney:
What happened next?
Little old lady:
Well, by then, I was feeling so ‘spicy’ that I just laid down and told him ‘Take me, young man. Take me now!’
Defence Attorney:
Did he take you?
Little old lady:
Hell, no! He just yelled, ‘April Fool!’
And that’s when I shot him, the little bastard.
Photo by Geoffrey Moffett on Unsplash
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