Being born and raised in the South, we offer this piece as a story of a wonderful couple we know. They reside in Chicago where Debi [formerly Dixie] now lives with her new husband. The saying, "You can take the girl out of the country, but you can't take the country out of the girl" isn't always true.
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It was the fourth night this week alone that the local police were dispatched to the same residence. They always received the same story: Hal had come home drunk from the bar and started verbally abusing his wife Dixie. The shouting would wake up the neighbors clear down the street. Before long, someone would end up calling the cops just to get em to shut up.
Every time the police tried to avoid the inevitable, but enough was enough. Hal spent the rest of the night caged behind cold, concrete walls. Court was the last place that Hal wanted to be on Friday morning, but it was better than rotting in lock up through the weekend.
"All rise! The Honorable William H. Harris presiding," the bailiff shouted as everyone rose. "The Superior Court of Haden County, Alabama is now in session."
The room was relatively bare and few people were in attendance. The arresting officers in their neatly pressed uniforms sat near lawyers in bowties and suspenders. Hal was donned in the orange jumpsuit and Dixie, having just finished her shift at Waffle Palace, stood before the judge rumpled in her short work dress undone at the top to show her bubbling cleavage.
The prosecutor cleared his throat. "Your Honor, this is that case of Hubert and Debra Wood."
The judge did not need the introduction. He had presided in this relatively small county almost 40 years. Needless to say, Hal found himself frequently in His Honor's presence.
"Mornin' Hal. Dixie," the judge offered politely as he tipped his imaginary hat towards Dixie. "I suppose y'all were fightin' again?"
"Yes, sir. I was just a bit drunk and we had a bout," Hal offered readily.
"Let the record show that Hubert Wood was in fact intoxicated last evening," the prosecutor offered as if he were trying the most important case of his career.
The judge ignored the tenacity of the lawyer. "What are we gonna do about all this fighting? I see you guys once a week. Hal's dressed in that fine jumpsuit and Dixie's not sure why she's here."
"I don't reckon you'd let us off?" Hal smiled as he made such a remark.
"Are y'all two having marital problems? Seems like y'all don't communicate." His Honor observed.
"Well, shucks your Honor. We've had our ups and downs, but I ain't going no where," Hal said, ever the country gent this morning.
"Your Honor," Dixie spoke timidly, "I've considered leaving many times but I don't have anywhere to go. Hal knows I can't leave. With the kind of money I make I'd starve 'fore the week was out. It's always been a rocky marriage. I just assumed we'd get used to it." Dixie said in her sweet southern drawl. This was no surprise to His Honor, Hal or any other person in the room. Hal and Dixie were known for their "marital complications."
"Tell you what I'll do." The judge spoke in his robust manner; "I'm willing to make you two a fine deal."
All ears listened as if the judge were about to reveal the gospel truth of the Second Coming.
"I want you two to go see that new doctor we've got in town. I hear he works with married folk. Maybe he can straighten all this out." The judge thought it might help. It sure couldn't hurt.
_____
Hal and Dixie found themselves in the small cramped waiting room of the eminent psychologist, Dr. Kremmer. Ned Kremmer graduated near the bottom of some obscure doctoral program and had resigned to doing clinical work in small towns. The pay wasn't the best, the patients sparse, but he could practice nonetheless.
"Good Morning. I'm Dr. Kremmer," Ned said offering his hand first to Hal, then moving on to shake Dixie's hand. Where as Hal's hand was rough and callused, Dixie's was soft and smelled of jasmine hand lotion. Ned quickly glanced down Dixie's open shirt, noting two white breasts squeezed to form a massive mound of cleavage.
"Please sit," Ned said motioning to the overstuffed couch sitting in front of his desk. Hal eyed the couch suspiciously. It was preposterous to Hal to see city-slicker head docs who want you to rant and rave about your mother. "I ain't laying on no couch," he declared to himself and thus squatted atop the armrest. Dixie sat down without hesitation on the opposite side of the couch. The soft cushions immediately swallowed her small frame and gave Ned a nice view up her tiny jean skirt.
Gulping hard, Ned sat down at his desk. He tried not to look at her pink cotton panties and instead made eye contact with Hal. "We're going to be doing some marriage therapy," Ned began getting into doctor mode. "I understand that the judge ordered you to be here, but we're going to look past that and focus on the problem." His eyes drifted over again at Dixie's exposed crotch. Her lips were clearly visible through the taut fabric. Ned felt a tingle pulsing from his groin area and he was thankful he could hide his rising cock behind his desk. How the hell a fuck up like Hal ended up with such a woman was unbelievable.
"I don't reckon I know why we're here," Hal started, " ‘cept that Judge thinks me and her got some problems. We fight just like any other couple Doc. That don't mean we have problems." Hal's scrunched up face asserted beyond doubt that he had better things to do on a Monday afternoon. The game was on and Hal was certain that it could not be played without him rooting from the local barstool.
"I just don't feel like we get along anymore. He's always a cussing and such," Dixie said speaking for the first time. Her sparkling green eyes peered up at Ned as he tried to hide the fact that he was looking at her pussy.
