The Trial is over and the Verdict Awaits

The hard part is the waiting. The jury has been out now for what seems like an eternity- but it’s actually only been an hour. I’ve been sitting here on the bench thinking about the deed. I am guilty. It really wasn’t an accident. I shouldn’t have done it, especially when I knew the risks. But it’s hard to stop when you think “It’s fun and nobody will get hurt, so there’s no harm. Besides- nobody is around and nobody will know”.

I must have known trouble was ahead deep down because my little voice tried to barge into my mind. Little Voice interrupted the crime with a warning- “Well, you might …” I stopped Little Voice and pushed him out of my mind, reminding him that “They’re not home. Nobody will even know I did it”. My Little Voice tried again to speak- “Hold on there … “ but I again pushed him aside and imagined him tied up and gagged in a dark corner. I want to do what I want to do. That’s what has led me to this point. I reluctantly thought  “I deserve whatever punishment I get. I ‘m Bad”.

I hoped for leniency. I could plead reduced capacity due to attention deficit disorder and learning disability- my handwriting is really bad. I was traumatized by a snake in the woods a few years ago. Maybe that could get me off. But I knew I wasn’t  a first time offender. I have a pretty long rap sheet as they say in the crime shows. Usually the punishment is even greater if the offender doesn’t seem to learn from his mistakes. I’m bad.

I feel a shudder down my spine and a few beads of sweat pop out of some unseen pours in my forehead. It’s funny how the primitive, stupid part of our body knows things better than the smart, logical part of my brain. The body knows the truth better than the mind. My body already passed sentence- I was sweating, shaking and my heart rate jumped. I wish that I had listened to my Little Voice.

I stare at the wall. I am amazed that it’s only been an hour and five minutes. Maybe I’ll get lucky and there will be a hung jury. Just to be sure, I checked the clock on the wall to see if it was broken. I looked closely and I saw the second hand moving slowly around- clicking off every second in a slow steady, relentless manner. The clicking sound seemed a bit louder with each click. I’m bad,

Maybe I will get lucky and avoid being sent to prison. Maybe I can be sent to a rehabilitation camp where I could learn to be a Good Citizen. I would be exposed to rules and exercises to correct my evil ways. But I don’t know if anyone can fix me. Maybe prison would be better. At least I could be free after I served my sentence. On the other hand, I probably would screw up again. Sigh- I shouldn’t be allowed to be with the Good People-  I am Bad. Very Bad. 

Finally the door opened slowly. I stood up from my toy chest bench as the jury of two filed into my room. Mom and Dad looked very serious. I was silent. I look down rather than see the disappointment in their eyes. That’s worse than their anger, I decided. Dad spoke slowly- “What were you thinking when you were bouncing that rubber ball off the side of the house. Didn’t you think you could hit the window? What I was really  thinking was “I thought you would be out shopping for at least an hour” but that would probably not be a good defense. So I went to my second thought.

“Well the Boston Red Sox were playing the New York Yankees in the final game of the World Series. I threw the rubber ball against the back of the house and  caught several balls for fly outs and smoothly fielded several ground balls, quickly throwing the batter out at first. Since there was no scoring after five innings I decided to step back three feet with each pitch. That’s for both teams- I wanted it to be fair. I had a great arm and I was throwing perfectly accurately each time. I didn’t field a couple of hits very quickly which allowed runners on first and second with two out in the top of the sixth inning. The Yankees were up. It was still all tied up. 

By now I was way far back in the yard. I planned to launch the ball into the middle of the back of the house. I would run towards the ball and fire the ball quickly back to the house catching it. It would be the perfect throw and catch at home plate.  The runner would be out and the Red Sox would be up. I threw the ball high into the air. As I ran towards the house for the quick fielding of the ball I froze. I watched the ball curve its way to the right. It seemed to slow its motion as it was pulled by an unseen magnet to the very center of the window. The crash was terrible”. I paused as my parents looked at each other with a strange expression. In my final plea for mercy I shouted “It was an accident!”. 

My parents nodded. I hoped they would ask who won, but that would be pushing it. Instead they handed me a broom to sweep up the mess and gave me a list of chores to pay for the window and the time involved in replacing it. The Sox-Yankees series was banned from the side of the  house permanently and I would serve a three day sentence in my room after school. I would do several chore to pay for the damage. The three days of lockup in my room after school wasn’t a surprise. After all, I was really very Bad. 

While sitting alone in solitary on day three I decided I would use the wiffle ball and plastic bat to continue the Sox-Yankees World Series the next day. I would toss the ball into the air and swing away. A single would be a hit into the tomato garden. A double would be over the brick grill. A triple would be a hit over the back porch. And a home run would be over the neighbor’s two story house. I can’t wait. It’ll be great. “What could go wrong?”.