JUSTIFIABLE HOMICIDE.

A trial is taking place in Mississippi. The defendant is a sweet grandmotherly type.

Defense Attorney: What is your age?

Little Old Woman: I am 86 years old.

Defense Attorney: Will you tell us, in your own words, what happened to you?

Little Old Woman: There I was, sitting there in my swing on my front porch on a warm spring evening, when a young man comes creeping up on the porch and sat down beside me.

Defense Attorney: Did you know him?

Little Old Woman: No, but he sure was friendly.

Defense Attorney: What happened after he sat down beside you?

Little Old Woman: He started to rub my thigh.

Defense Attorney: Did you stop him?

Little Old Woman: No, I didn't stop him.

Defense Attorney: Why not?

Little Old Woman: It felt good. Nobody had done that since my Abner passed away some 30 years ago.

Defense Attorney: What happened next?

Little Old Woman: He began to rub my breasts.

Defense Attorney: Did you stop him then?

Little Old Woman: No, I did not stop him.

Defense Attorney: Why not?

Little Old Woman: Why, Your Honor, his rubbing made me feel all alive and excited. I haven't felt that good in years!

Defense Attorney: What happened next?

Little Old Woman: Well, I was feeling so spicy that I just spread my old legs and said to him, "Take me, young man, Take me!"

Defense Attorney: What happened?

Little Old Woman: That's when he yelled, "April Fool!" And that's when I shot the son of a bitch!