The Wimp?

It turns out she was wrong about not having a place to stay. The next day two of the biggest cops you ever saw showed up on my doorsteps. They dragged me off to the Pokey. While trying to make bail, I found out Julie had cleaned out our joint account months before. The only money left for me was just enough for household expenses, but since my new address was the jailhouse, I really didn't need much.

With no resources, I was at the mercy of the public defender, a pimply faced kid who probably had never seen the inside of a courtroom. Long story short—after the DA finished telling about how 'mean ole me' had ruined my completely innocent wife and her old schoolmate, that just happened to drop by, I was lucky I only got three years, reduced to probation if I signed the house and land over to Julie. It would have been a lot worse than that if I hadn't had the pictures, which the judge wouldn't allow the jury to see, but which I'm sure affected his decision on the punishment.

I had to consider it awhile, but finally agreed. Why, you ask? Well, I thought of Bubba and his friends waiting for the guards to turn the lights out. Now don't get me wrong; One Bubba I could handle—but in there Bubbas don't come in ones. So now I rent a place on the lake; it ain't much but I fixed it up real good, on my dime of course. It's a roof over our heads when I pick up the kids for my weekends, and since my folks and my in-laws took my side, I still get a good home cooked meal pretty often.

Oh yeah—today I still enjoy the LW section of Lit. but I take the comments about how "I'd have done so and so!" with a grain of salt. Been there—done that, and take my word for it, "In today's world, you just can't do that shit."