Column:

If I Also Did It: My account of the O.J. Simpson scandal

By Charles Austin

Published Oct. 23, 2007

Last month, O.J. Simpson released his new book "If I Did It," detailing his account of what he would have done were he the actual murderer of his wife and her friend Ronald Goldman. It was a bold move for an innocent man. A lesser man would cower at the thought of detailing crimes he had oh-so-wrongfully been accused of.

But men like O.J. and myself rise to the occasion when the opportunity presents itself. If O.J. can write about a crime he didn't commit, what's stopping me from writing about the same crime I didn't commit? The following is an excerpt from my upcoming book, "If I Also Did It," and if sales are as high as I expect, you can look forward to my next book about how I assassinated former-President Abraham Lincoln sometime next spring.

Tiny beads of sweat formed on my brow as I waited in silence, concealed from prying eyes by lush green shrubbery that flourished in the warm and fair weather brought about by June and the onset of summer. Not 10 feet in front of me stood Nicole Brown Simpson, former object of O.J. Simpson's affection and current collector of his hard-earned child support.

It would be easy to say I was out for blood, oh yes, but I was out for a lot more than mere flesh and sinew. I was out for justice. Before me stood a woman so vile, so utterly detestable after she separated from her Hall of Fame inducted husband just because he beat her now and then. As a self-proclaimed harbinger of justice, I took it upon myself to track down this ungrateful harlot and put an end to her misdeeds now and forever.

As I lay in wait in a row of bushes — my mighty steed Asfaloth crouched awkwardly at my side — I waited for the precise moment at which my blade's cold steel would be best fitted for the unsuspecting neck of Ronald Goldman.

I made my movements all at once. In but a scant millisecond, I had mounted my valiant mare, drawn my shimmering blade and cleanly removed the head of Ronald Goldman. A geyser of blood rocketed into the air from what was once the neck that had housed the man's head. Before Nicole Brown Simpson even had a chance to comprehend the bloodshed that had transpired, I removed a conch shell from my utility belt and pressed it to my lips.

As I blew into the shell with all my might, an overpowering noise resounded throughout a radius of many miles. From the east there came a gargantuan, ominous rumbling. Slowly, powerfully, a behemoth-like figure emerged from over the horizon.

It was a massive Tyrannosaurus Rex, the king of the jungle himself. Nicole Brown Simpson turned slowly to see what had crept up behind her. As an abject look of terror spread across her entire being, the monstrous prehistoric beast sunk his mighty teeth into what, in just one minute's time, would no longer be identifiable as her body.

I let out a triumphant cry as the dinosaur tore this treacherous woman limb from limb, and I slept very well that night, knowing the world was a bit safer than it had been the night before.

cran7d@mizzou.edu