It’s In Our Blood

It’s In The Blood
I am great grandfather, grandfather and father in one line of descendants. You have heard the song “I’m My Own Grandpa?” My theme song ought to be something about, “I’m my own worst enemy.” I’m an old man now and look back on the genetic shit storm I’ve created and wonder why my daughters, grand daughters and great grand daughters let me live without at least castrating me. The last time I got charged with a sex crime, statutory rape I was seventy-two years old.

That was three years ago and I shall never be able to use that defense again. “You do not challenge the fact your sperm was found in that young girl, do you?” the prosecutor asked.

“No sir, from what I have been told it was my sperm in that woman.” I wanted to get that clown concentrating on splitting age hairs. Pussy hairs when they are still attached are much more fun, but legal hairs were what I had to concentrate on if I wanted to keep out of prison where I was too old to be mated up with a black dude with a sixteen inch peter and named Bubba. Most romantically inclined Bubbas don’t want wrinkled old ass, white or any other color.

“Please tell us if you admit under oath that the sperm found in that girl___”

“Woman,” I interrupted. That really pissed him off.

“That young girl!” he screamed back at me. “I have a daughter her age.”

“How many times have you been to bed with her?” I whispered just loud enough for him to hear.

“You son of a bitch!” he screamed at me.

“Your honor___.” He turned to the judge.

“Contempt of court, three hundred dollar fine and thirty days to calm you down,” the judge said.

“Thank you, your honor, he deserves much more.”

Then the judge dropped the bombshell. “I was referring to you and your unconscionable attack on the defendant.” He looked toward the back of the courtroom, “Bailiff take him into custody.”

My cheek was swelling where he hit me.