The Strawberry Patch Book 1: The BabiesChapter 33: It Was Not Supposed To Be Like This free porn video
September – Year 1
Well that cat was out of the bag. He shouted it loud enough that people blocks away could have heard him. And since the bar was not yet busy, everyone there now knew something was going on with Erin and babies.
“Well that didn’t take long.” Mark hit me on the shoulder.
“Well we know she is pregnant, we believe it is twins. We have to wait for a few months to find out.”
“So, are congratulations in order?”
“Hell yes. Lynn and I both participated and did our level best.”
Mark cocked his head to the side, “Lynn?”
“Mark we are married to each other. Do you think that Erin would have gotten knocked up without her wife being intimately involved?”
“I am not even going to go there. It never occurred to me.”
“Yeah, me neither, until it happened!”
I looked over at Erin and she was in a permanent blush. She chased Bosco out from behind the bar and turned to run into a very happy hug from Marcus. The rest of the night was just like that. New people came in, the news was passed on and people hugged Erin. She blushed all night long and her wife and I just laughed and smiled every time.
It occurs to me that I have not told you a lot about me. My name is Paul O’Dell, but you knew that. As you know I have been married twice. The first time was to my junior high school sweetheart. We saw each other about a dozen times over a dozen years. She had gotten married and moved to Scottsdale Arizona and went to college at Arizona State University. The bastard she married was a drunken druggie and after a year she divorced him. She moved back to our area and the last time I saw her, I decided I could not do without her and I proposed and she accepted and we got married.
We were married for 19 years and have two great kids. My daughter and her husband and two girls live outside of St. Louis. She wanted to go into the Army and be an interpreter, but a few weeks into basic she was thrown from the back of a truck and landed on her butt. She fractured her coccyx. They drummed her out of the army and she went home, met her husband, got married and had two babies.
When the youngest was 5 yrs. old she decided to follow her dream and just this past summer they moved to the Illinois side of St. Louis. She is going to Southern Illinois University in Edwardsville, Illinois and wants to be a veterinarian. She is going to be a good one and her family is blessed to have her as a wife and mom.
My son enlisted in the army as well. He ended up being deployed to Afghanistan for 36 months and when he came home he lived with me for a year to get back in the world. Now, he has completed technical school and has multiple certifications and works on residential and industrial heating and air conditioning.
He now has a girlfriend and is finally on track to do well. I hope. While he was deployed he went through some shit. It is a war zone. People shoot at you and try to kill you. He got in trouble once for shooting a guy without permission. He was in the turret of the lead Humvee in a convoy and as his vehicle came over a hill, there was a guy in a white truck with an RPG aimed at them. The rules of engagement say that if you are not being shot at, you cannot shoot first.
My son spun his .50 caliber on the guy and disappeared him. He did not ask permission first and he got in trouble. The army DOES keep things in a permanent record, unlike in junior or senior high school (if only I had known!). My son’s best friend over there was a guy named Justin. They called him Boomer.
In September, Boomer, a stable man with a wonderful wife and three little girls, with everything in the world going for him, walked into his back yard and put a 1911 in his mouth and shot himself. My son freaked out. That means that I freaked out. I knew Boomer. He was the guy that told me the bad stuff my son had gone through so that I could help him with his PTSD when he came home and lived with me. I spent several nights holding my son on the couch of my living room while he fought off the demons of war.
Boomer was a normal everyday guy and my son feared that if it could happen to Boomer, it could happen to him. He was scared shitless. His girlfriend helped, but it was rough going.
So, I told you that to tell you this. I really liked Boomer. I had dinner in his house with his family anytime I got back to the Kansas City area where they lived. Boomers death affected me almost as much as my son. I was scared to death that my son could go the same route. There were no signs, no stressors. Boomer just went out and took his life.
When I got the news about Boomer, I lost it. I went out after work and got drunk. No. I did not get drunk, I got DRUNK! Shit faced, FUBAR. I was drinking Shiner Bock and between bottles I was drinking shots of Jamison and Patron.
I tried to drive the few blocks to my home, and saw that I needed gas, so I pulled into a gas station/convenience store to fill up. I stood next to the pump and realized that I really needed to pee, so I whipped it out and began to piss on the side of my car. It would not be right to piss on the pump or the property of the store. I knew that was not honorable. Drunk logic.
Just as I was in mid-piss a police car pulled up and the cop witnessed what I was doing and, needless to say, I was detained. They took me to the local holding tank after parking my car off to the side of the gas station. I have never been in trouble with the law. No speeding tickets or axe murders, nothing. They let me have a phone call so I called Lynn.
“Hi Paul! Where are you?” Good old caller ID.
“Hi honey, I am in jail.”
Cricket
Cricket
Cricket
The silence was deafening. I was weaving as I stood at the desk with the phone. I was not sure that I could maintain this cool exterior of being stone cold sober. (Like anyone who is drunk on their ass can do). Lynn knew from my voice that I was first, drunk, and second that I was ok.
“Where are you? Which jail?”
“I don’t know. They brought me here. I don’t know.”
“May I talk to one of the police officers around you?”
“Sure!”
There was some background chatter and then a female voice came on the line.
“Hello?”
“Hi. I am Lynn O’Dell, Paul’s wife. What happened and where is he?”
“Hi Mrs. O’Dell. Paul was picked up for public urination. He was at a gas station and was relieving himself onto the side of his car. He said it would have been rude to do that on the stations property. I guess he meant on the gas pumps. It happened that one of our patrol cars was pulling through the station on a routine sweep and saw him. They determined that he was inebriated and brought him in.”
“Was he driving the car?”
“Well, we assume so, but no one witnessed him driving and the vehicle was not running so we cannot get him on DUI. While he was under the influence he was not driving at the time; so he was brought in for public intoxication and public urination.”
“Shit!”
“Yup.”
“So what happens how?”
“Well, if you want to come down the bail is set automatically at $1000 and you would need to pay that or get a bail bondsman to pay it and then you could take him home.”
“A thousand dollars? What if I can’t pay that much?”
“The option would be to let him stay here overnight and sober up and then come and get him after the judge sees him.”
“Well, let’s let him stew overnight and I will be in to take care of things in the morning. What time can I get him in the morning?”
“He will see the judge at about 9:30am. You will either need to get a lawyer or let the public defender’s office represent him. And when the judge is selected, that judge will set the real bail and then you pay or he stays.”
I went to take the phone from the officer, but Lynn had hung up and the officer gave me a sad look as she hung up the phone and directed me back to the holding cell and a really messed up night’s sleep.
At 9:30am the next morning, I was in the courtroom and both of my wives came in and sat at one of the bench seats. When I was called up I rose and went to the center of the room, in front of the judge. The clerk read the charges and the judge looked at me.
“Well, sir how do you plea?”
“Your honor, I guess I have to plead extenuation circumstances.”
“Son, everyone has extenuating circumstances. You will get to explain them at your trial if you so choose. In the meantime how do you plea?”
“Well your Honor, I don’t know how to plead.”
“Son, it is easy. Either you did what the arresting officers said you did, or you did not. If you did, I sentence you and if you did not I return you to jail until you make bail or your trial. Guilty or not guilty?”
“Your honor, if I could explain, maybe I could get a different option.”
“What do you have to say for yourself?” The judge was getting testy.
I explained everything that had happened and how it affected my son and how that affected me. I explained that I work with kids and that I was ashamed of myself for acting the way I did. I told him that I hoped my athletes would not find out from any source other than my own.
He listened and then he shook his head.
“Is my understanding that you intend to brag to the kids you work with that you got drunk?”
“NO! I am going to tell them what happened, just like I have with you and then I am going to tell them that there is no excuse for what I did, only a reason. Then I will tell them what my reasons were.”
“Son, I understand. I have a grandson over there right now and I fear for his life every day and I fear what our government will do to him when he comes home. However, that has nothing to do with this case. I need you to plea either guilty or not guilty.”
“Well then your honor, I guess I need to plead guilty and hope that you will understand when you sentence me.”
“Son, I really do understand. I really do. I sentence you to a fine of $1000 or 15 days in city jail. If you are ready to pay the fine, you may see the clerk. If you are not, you may go with the bailiff.”
“Thank you your Honor. I am sorry to have taken up so much of your time.”
“Son, don’t let me see you in here again. Ok?”
Madison
- 10.10.2020
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