The playgrounds in this city are not intended for public use—don't you remember what happened to the doughnut girls? Patrick Beberfield apparently did not when he stepped outside for a breath of fresh air in the park near his Bed-Stuy home, all because of the smell of a dead chicken. But try telling that to the cops.

Here's what happened: Beberfield's wife, "in an effort to bestow some of her own Southern farming traditions upon her family," brought home two whole chickens (dead and defeathered, but with their heads on) for her husband and their nine-year-old son to butcher. It was supposed to be "an expriment for them to remember," says Mrs. Beberfield. Instead, minutes into his butchering attempt, Beberfield found the smell "so gruesome" that he had to excuse himself for some fresh air. He took his Bible and headed off to the Police Officer Reinaldo Salgado Playground, across the street from his house, at around 10:45 p.m. "just to meditate, to read some psalms, get my mind right.”

Within minutes, two cops confronted Beberfield, frisked him, asked him if he had pot, checked his (allegedly clean) criminal record, and kept "their hands glued to their guns" the entire time. Beberfield had apparently missed the sign outside the park, saying, in tiny letters, that it closed at dusk. “Dusk is dusk, plain and simple; it doesn’t matter what time of the year it is,” Detective Brian Sessa, a police spokesman, told City Room. Beberfield says his family just moved to the neighborhood and he didn't know the rule, and suggested that he should have instead been given a verbal warning.

Beberfield was issued a summons, which he pleaded not guilty over the mail, and is set to appear in Manhattan Criminal Court on March 15. Here's hoping that the judge dismisses the ticket in, oh, say, less than a minute—it wouldn't be the first time.