Straight Trespasser’s Penalty

It was an overcast and mild day in mid-June many years ago and I was just nineteen. I was staying at my uncle’s farm to help him out a bit as well as take a little time to figure out my plans for the future. Job, schooling, career, girls, and fun all had to be considered in the decisions I soon needed to make. Finding contemplating such things was best done in the outdoors I spent a lot of my free time hiking around the area’s scattered woods and scrub brush festooned rolling hillsides. This particular day I’d been stomping around for hours and it seemed the farther I went the more lost in thought I became. Suddenly I snapped out of it and realized I had become rather disoriented. I couldn’t say I was lost though because I could still see the hill in the distance with the distinctive rock outcropping that bordered the farm. I just had to kind of bushwhack my way down to the road I knew went through the shallow valley below me. I wasn’t familiar with this stretch of land but knew I’d be ok now.

Scrambling cross-country down the uneven slope I made my way through a tangled grove of stunted trees to find myself confronted by an old weathered fence. I could see the back of a sign attached to it and was curious about what it said. After climbing the fence I read the sign and got a most unpleasant feeling in the pit of my stomach. In bold letters it nearly screamed, NO TRESPASSING KEEP OUT.

Oops!, I thought as I sheepishly turned to walk the remaining distance to the road. I hadn’t gone more than fifty yards when I heard a distinctive and unmistakable sound, the sound of a gun being cocked!

“We take a dim view of trespassers around here son. Turn around and put your hands up!” a raspy masculine voice commanded firmly. Terrified, I thought my thumping heart would pound right out of my chest! I did as the voice said and faced my captor. Turning, I faced a stocky man in his fifties wearing grubby clothes and pointing a rifle at me.

“Get walking that way.” he said gesturing with his gun. And I did. “We’re going to my house to call the sheriff! Now move!” he barked gruffly. “I …I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to trespass sir! I was kind of lost.” I desperately tried to explain.

“Just keep goin.” is all I heard from him. Then I saw the old, dingy, little house with a few scattered out buildings clustered around it. Trying to console myself any way possible I thought, “Well, if he’s calling the sheriff at least he’s not likely to be a serial killer.”

Arriving at the door of the rustic dwelling my “host” said “Go in, it’s not locked.” As expected it was cluttered and unkempt with a lot of antiquated furnishings mixed with some modern conveniences. I stood in the center of a fairly large living room as he stood by the door and closed it behind him. His next words left me in shock, “Take off your shoes and socks, then your shorts and undies and toss them over here. I want to see your ass.” My heart was really thumping again when I peeled off running shorts and dropped my briefs to floor. Then I bent over, scooped them up and tossed them over to him. This was as good as tying me up since I couldn’t escape bottomless!

With that he reached for the phone and started dialing. He told the sheriff he’d caught a trespasser and then he started whispering so low I couldn’t make out what was being said. Then he hung up. “He’s in the area and will be here shortly.” he told me.

Again I desperately pleaded my case that my trespassing had been unintentional and expressed how sorry I was. But it again had no effect and I could just as well have been talking to a wall. How could I get out of this?

Then I heard a vehicle pull up and park.