The Butt Buster--My First Paddling (part 1)


by Fourteen <HLES33A@prodigy.com>

Coach Charles had two paddles--the one that we primarily saw was known as "The Stinger" and was cut from a piece of plywood--and measured five by twelve inches and a half inch thick. He also had "The Butt Buster" which was cut from a piece of one by four and was probably fifteen inches long with holes that would whistle as it dived towards the bottom of a naughty eighth grader. As you can probably imagine, we all became apprehensive when the Butt Buster came out.

I had never been paddled in school, and had always thought that such a fate would never befall me--that is until two weeks after my fourteenth birthday. Coach Charles had told us to shower and dress after p e in "absolute silence"--he had even repeated himself--"ABSOLUTE SILENCE!" as we all went up to the locker room. We were as silent as a bunch of thirteen and fourteen year old boys could be--whispering in deference to his order (figuring that whispering was "absolute silence" as opposed to our normal yelling and laughing.)

Then, Coach Charles came into the room just as I was pulling up my grey school pants--and he was carrying the Stinger. Somebody's butt had to burn.

"All Right! If you were talkin', Raise your hand Now!" He was actually planning to paddle the talkers? I looked with worry towards my friend, Johnny at the same time that he looked at me--both of us shaking our heads. Technically, Coach's command had been directed at us.

Six boys--dressed in either underpants or the grey pants of the school uniform quickly put up their hands, brave souls and were ordered to the middle of the room. Each one took his turn, grabbing his ankles to present his bottom for punishment, and Coach Charles made each jump as three whacks crossed each bottom--"WHACK, WHACK, WHACK"--leaving six boys rubbing their backsides as they gritted their teeth. I could tell that it must have hurt!

"All Right! Who else was talkin'?" Slowly, Doug and Chris raised their hands--Doug almost in tears. They marched to the middle of the room and one at a time, bent over. "WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!" They took theirs a little harder than the first set of boys--and now Doug had tears running down his cheeks.

I felt some pity for him--for a second until Coach Charles asked him if he had seen anyone else talking, and he pointed right at me. "Jonathan and Johnny were talking to each other!" THE RAT! I no longer pitied him, in fact I hoped his butt would blister!

"All Right! Jonathan, Were you talkin'?"

"No, Coach!" I lied--seeing relief on my friend's face--knowing that he had felt the Stinger before. But immediately, I realized that I had deserved to bend over, and I felt a little troubled as the bell rang and I left.

On the way to the next class, Doug even came up and apologized for almost getting me into trouble for something that I obviously hadn't done. That made me feel even more troubled.

That night, as bedtime approached and I finished my homework, I kept thinking about how I had let others take a punishment that was also meant to have been for me--and I was having trouble concentrating on my homework. I went into my father's room, and nervously told him all that had happened--from the whispering to the paddlings to my lying. I knew that I was on dangerous ground here--knowing that I could easily end up feeling the belt--but he calmly listened to my story.

"Jonathan, Do you feel that those boys and you deserved a paddling?"

"Not really--you know, just for Talking...but I do feel like that they got paddled, and, you know, if they got paddled, I should've told the truth and got paddled too--even if it was sort of too severe a punishment...You know what I mean?"

"What do you think you could do about it?"

"I guess go to Coach Charles tomorrow and tell him the truth, and then get whatever I have to get. It might hurt, but at least I could feel better inside."

"I am afraid that you have come up with the only solution." My father was shaking his head. "I hope that it will be something that you remember--it is better to tell the truth and face the music than to have to live with yourself when you tell a lie while your friends are brave enough to face the music."

"What about Johnny? I don't want to rat on him?"

"Then Don't. Just let Johnny live with himself--Now go to bed...and Jonathan?"

"Yes, Sir?" Knowing what I would do now, I felt like a great load had been lifted from my shoulders as I was walking through the door towards my own room.

"I am proud of you for coming to this decision--and I hope that you have learned something valuable."

"I have."

I went to bed and slept quite well.


More stories byFourteen