Sometimes, When Just Watering is not Good Enough...
"Okay, Mr. Aakart, will you please tell the cauwt exactly whut happened, in your own wurds?” the words rang deep and resonant in the small confines of the Bascome County courthouse in Ellisburg, Georgia. The judge sat back, his mop of gray hair flopping around his head like a halo that can’t find the hook. He wiped his brow with a dirty, sodden handkerchief he kept in a pocket under his robe.
Darien Aakart cleared his throat with a short cough. “Yes, Sir. This whole thing would be hilarious - absolutely downright rollin' in the isle, gut-bustin' funny if’n I wasn’t standin' here in front of you, sir.”
“I’ll be the judge of that, Mr. Aakert.”
“Yessuh, you be the judge…"
“Whazzat, Mr. Aakart?”
“I said I’d tell you the truth, judge.”
“Why, I’d ‘spect nuthun less from ya… now, get on with it – fer goodness sake.”
“Well, sir – I was just doing my thang … As I recall, it was the 4th of July and hotter’n butter on the breakfast griddle. The petunias were dryin’ up and the magnolias looked like something from the WalMart down on Pegusas Street. I was thinkin’ they could use some water’n and that whut I was doin’, yer Honor… water’n the petunias…”
“He sure was, too, judge. He was just stand’n there, pretty as you please, pissin’ on those poor flowers…”
“Now Mrs. McCallum, you’ll get yer turn. Please try’n refrain from interruptin’ the testimony of others, ‘kay?” admonished the judge.
“Yes, judge. But he was just standin’ there just’a pissin like a…”
“MRS. McCALLUM! Please! - Now ye go ‘head Mr. Aakart”
“Well sir, jest like I was say ‘n, it was hot – hotter’n butter on a grid…”
“Now Mr. Aakart…”
‘Right.. right, judge. Sorry. Like I said – this would be hilarious if’n it wern’t serious. I also doubt Mrs. McCallum would find it funny – causes it makes her the ass of this tale. Anyways, as I was say’n… I was worried ‘bout them petunias and magnolias. Can’t have them dy’n ‘cause of the heat now can we? So I was water’n ‘em - WITH a water hose. I was just standin’ there, facing the garden, wearin’ a pair ‘o short pants and sandals, with the hose was in my left hand when all ‘o a sudden, Mrs. McCallum here comes up on my right side - starts screaming and pointing. Took me all of ten minutes to figure out what she was yellin’ ‘bout.”
“Mrs. McCallum?”
“Yes, yer honor?”
“Whut exactly did you see?”
“Well, I saw this… this ... pervert! ... here peein’ on his garden, your honor…”
“Did ye actually see Mr. Aakart here expose himself?”
“ALL HE HAD ON WAS A PAIR ‘O SHORTS AND SANDALS. HE WAS EXPOSED, YOUR HONOR!”
“Nauw – nouw . . . No need ta' shauwt. Whut I meant wuz, did you actually see Mr. Aakart’s … ahh… uh… private parts?”
“Private parts? Ya mean – like did I see his … his … willy?”
“Well, yes…”
“No. But I didn’ ‘ave too! I could see ‘em standin’ there, his hands at his side, an’ a solid stream comin’ from in front ‘o him. Flooding them petunias too, he was.”
“But ya’ didn’t exactly see him peein’ on the plants, did ya…?”
“Your honah…”
“Yes, Mr. Aakart?
“I ‘ave a witness.. that will prove I didn’ pee on muh plants…”
“An’ who will that be…?”
“A neighbor, sir. Ms. Marbles…”
“Is she ‘er?”
“Yes, yo' honah.”
“Ms. Marbles?”
“Yes Sir?”
“Did ye see Mr. Aakart on the day in question?”
“Oh - Yes Sir.”
“Can ya tell the cauwt whut ya’ saw?”
“Well, sir – Mr. Aakart was outside ‘is house on July 4th, just like ‘e said. It was hot…”
“What was Mr. Aakart wearin’?”
“A pair of short white shorts, sir.”
“Whutelse?”
“Huh? … uhhh… “
“Was ‘e wearin’ anythin' else?”
“Uh… I … I don’ know… I don’t think I really got farther down than his shorts, sir. I know he didn’t have a shirt on… and the shorts were … well… short...”
“Did you see Mr. Aakart ‘ere peein’ on his plants, Ms. Marbles?”
“Oh, no sir. If he did that, I’d noticed . I mean, I was watching his shorts close…”
“Why would ya be doin’ that?”
“I was attracted to him – him being a very good-looking older man an’ all…”
“Older man??”
“Oh! He as wearin’ somethin’ else – a tan!”
“A tan whut?”
“Huh?”
“A tan whut? Ya said he was wearin’ a tan somethin’ or other…”
‘Oh, no sir. I mean he was wearin’ a good looking tan. . .”
“Tan whut?”
“Not whut, sir, but . . . how did he get such a great looking suntan…? I mean... him bein' such a good-lookin' older man an' all...”
“Suntan? Ya mean he wuz wearin’ a suntan?”
“Yes sir. He was just standin’ there, wearin’ short shorts, sandals, and this great tan, holdin’ a hose, water’n his plants when Mrs. McCallum comes runnin’ up to him screamin’ 'Pervert! Pervert!' and pointin'...”
"Pointin' at whut?"
"Why, at Mr. Aakart's petunia's of course..."
"Now whuy in the world would Mrs. McCallum be so concerned 'bout Mr. Aakart's petunias?"
'Maybe 'cause she's from Dixon. Sir..."
"Dixon?"
"Yes Sir. Dixon."
"Whut exactly is a 'Dixon'?"
"It's the Petunia Capital of the World! that's whut it is!" exclaimed Mr. McCallum, jumping up from her seat. "Each year, since I was a little girl in the '50s, the people of Dixon, Illinois honor'd it's heritage. When Dutch Elm disease killed some of the trees along the roads, the people of Dixon pulled together and planted Petunias all around... t'was beautiful. And now, every year on the 4th of July, they have a celebration."
"...an' that... that... that PERVERT! dishonored it by peein' on his petunias!! And on the 4th of July too! A body can only take so much Yer Honor... "
"Now, Mrs. McCallum, I don't believe that Mr. Aakart here was peein' on his petunias. I think he was water'n 'em and to you it looked like he was peein... ain't that rhight, Mr. Aakart?"
"Yessir!"
"Ya didn't pee on them petunias ...?"
"No ya honah.."
"Case dismissed."
"... but I did crap on muh marigolds..."
