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!