Saturday night, September 22, 11:35 p. m. The nighttime weather was in the low fifties, and the slightly waning moon shone over the lake and shoreline. Matt and Rita Douglas were sitting on the porch, whose screens were already covered by storm windows for the soon-coming winter. Wearing sweaters, they sat talking, sipping hot tea, and soaking in the almost mysterious moonlit beauty of this lakeside wonderland.
Suddenly, a tall, trim figure, 6'2" and 170 lbs, sandy hair and dark brown eyes, walked onto the porch, heading to the door and steps leading down to where the cars were parked along the edge of the beach sand. It was their nearly 20 year-old son, Jerry. Wearing jeans, a lined windbreaker, and deck shoes with white socks, he was carrying a small tv-vcr combination, with an automobile lighter adapter connected to it.
"See, ya, Mom. See, ya, Dad," he called and moved quickly towards the door.
"Wait a minute, son. What are you doing?" Matt fired out. "Where are you going – at this hour? And what are you going to do with that tv in the car?"
"Ah, . . . I'm . . . ah . . . picking up Jeff and Ryan, and were going into town."
"What? At nearly midnight, you think you're going to pick up two other guys and drive 55 miles to town? It'll be 1 a. m. before you even get there! No way, son. There's nothing for you guys in town at this hour. Anything that is going on is something that you have no business being involved in, and can only get you into trouble. Even if it were a lot earlier, I'd have concerns about you guys going that far to town, and then having to drive back. And, regardless of the time, under no circumstances are you going to take a tv-vcr with you in the car while your driving – so, forget that!"
"Do Jeff and Ryan's folks know what you guys have tried to cook up at this late hour?" Rita Douglas asked.
"Mom! Dad! I'll be 20 in five days! I'm not a baby or a little kid! Get off my back. We can go into town and come back without getting into any trouble. Besides, Ryan is staying at Jeff's, and Jeff's folks are away until tomorrow night! And they're both already 20!"
"What?" Matt Douglas interjected. "In other words, neither one of their parents know what they are planning to do – with you. Well, they may be 20, – and you five days shy of it – but driving 55 miles, more than an hour, at this time makes no sense for any of you, – and it's simply out of the question for you."
"What? Listen, Dad. I'm old enough to take care of myself and make my own judgments. I don't need you and Mom looking after me and second-guessing everything I do."
"You may think so, Jerry. But, son, while you're living with us, you are bound by the conditions that we set for people – especially our son – living in our house. So, there's nothing more to discuss. You're not going out to drive over 110 miles, after midnight. And you are never going to go driving with that tv-vcr in the car! So, take you jacket off, and go call Jeff and let him and Ryan know you won't be going."
"Oh, _d_a_m_n_ it! I'm not a little kid, and you can't do this to me. I'm 20 years old, it's my car, and my tv. If I want to go out – and drive with the tv – it's my business, not yours! I'm going – now! And you can't stop me!" Jerry exploded with instant anger.
Quicker than a coiled snake strikes, Matt was out of his Adirondack chair, and grabbed Jerry's arm holding the tv-vcr. Jerry jerked back, and started to pull away towards the door.
"No you don't, young man! You're not going, and you're about to find out what the consequences are for a young hothead who thinks he's too big for his britches, and tries to defy his folks!" Matt barreled his 6'4", 240 lb body into his son, pushing him backwards and off his feet.
"Alright, _d_a_m_n_ you! You asked for it!" Jerry shouted as he fell to the wooden floor on his butt – still clutching the tv-vcr.
"No, son. You've asked for it – and you're going to get it. You're not only not too old for it, but you're obviously asking for it, and need it bad!" Matt jumped on top of his son, wrenched the tv-vcr out of his left hand, as the boy tried to fight off his dad. They rolled around for a minute, until Matt had subdued Jerry enough to have pulled Jerry's left arm behind him; and Matt was grabbing him from behind, around Jerry's chest with Matt's right arm.
"Let go, _d_a_m_n_ you!" Jerry hollered, as he tried to twist and shake himself free from his Dad's grip.
"In just a minute, son. Just keep your pants on – for now." In his Dad's clutch, Jerry was being dragged along as Matt moved over to the small bar stool standing near the Adirondack chairs that he and his wife, Rita, had been occupying. When he reached the stool, he sat down and pulled Jerry down across his lap, face up.
"WHAT THE . . .!" Jerry bellowed, but he was immediately interrupted as Matt released his grip around Jerry's chest, and reaching down, he quickly turned his son over his lap, face down and hanging off to the left.
"OH, NO YOU DON'T" Jerry yelled, as he realized exactly what his Dad aimed to do. He began to thrust himself in an effort to get up.
Instantly, Matt pulled Jerry's jacket up over his arms and head, pulling the t-shirt up along with it.
WHAAAUMP! WHAAAUMP! WHAAAUMP! WHAAAUMP! WHAAAUMP! WHAAAUMP! WHAAAUMP! WHAAAUMP!
Eight thunderous swats crashed into his backside, catching Jerry by surprise with their swiftness and force. With the jacket over the back and top of his head, he could not see around the side and behind to anticipate what was happening.
"AAAAUMMPH! AAAAYAAUMPPHH! AAAAAYAAAUMMPPHAAA!!!" Jerry squirmed and pushed forward, nearly toppling onto his head, as he released the moaning gasps under the volley of hard swats.
His Dad grabbed his right arm out from under Jerry, leaving him supported only by his left arm and hand. Pulling Jerry's right arm up behind him, he held it up toward the center of Jerry's now-bare shoulder blades. Matt then turned Jerry on his left side and reached around the front of Jerry, unbuckling his belt, button, and unzipping his jeans.
"NO WAY!! NO YOU DON'T, DAD! I'M TOO OLD! YOU CAN'T DO THISSSS!!" Jerry bellowed. But Matt just as quickly turned Jerry back over on his stomach, lying face down across his lap. Then, reaching the waistband, he bounced Jerry slightly on his knees, while he jerked the jeans down his behind, his things, past his knees to his ankles, where they gathered, bound around Jerry's deck shoes.
WHAAAUMP! WHAAAUMP! WHAAAUMP! WHAAAUMP! WHAAAUMP! WHAAAUMP! WHAAAUMP! WHAAAUMP! WHAAAUMP! WHAAAUMP! WHAAAUMP! WHAAAUMP! WHAAAUMP! WHAAAUMP! WHAAAUMP! WHAAAUMP! WHAAAUMP! WHAAAUMP! WHAAAUMP! WHAAAUMP! WHAAAUMP! WHAAAUMP! WHAAAUMP!
"OW! OW! OWOUCH! OWWW! WHEW! OWWW!!! STOP IT! STOP! OWWWW!!! OWWWEEEYOWWW!!! IT HURTS!! STOP! STOP! IT HURTS!! OOO-AAAYOWWW!!! OWWEEEYOWWWOWOWWWW!! OOOAAYOWEEEE!!! OWEEYOWEEEOWWWW!! OO-AH- IT HURTS!! OWOWOWWWWW!! PLEASE!!"
Matt pummeled Jerry's bottom. Covered only by his thin, white briefs, Jerry felt like his behind was being ignited by a torch. He began bucking and kicking, twisting, squirming, and pushing, thrusting and thrashing about, trying to free himself rom the unrelenting fire that was putting his bottom ablaze!
WHAAAUMP! WHAAAUMP! WHAAAUMP! WHAAAUMP! WHAAAUMP! WHAAAUMP! WHAAAUMP! WHAAAUMP! WHAAAUMP! WHAAAUMP! WHAAAUMP! WHAAAUMP! WHAAAUMP! WHAAAUMP! WHAAAUMP! WHAAAUMP! WHAAAUMP!
Matt kept up the barrage of swats against his son's jumping bottom. Jerry's wailing was near tears as his Dad spanked him faster and faster, and harder and harder.
WHAAAUMPWHAAAUMPWHAAAUMPWHAAAUMPWHAAAUMP! WHAAAUMPWHAAAUMPWHAAAUMPWHAAAUMPWHAAAUMPWHAAAUMPWHAA-AUMP! WHAAAUMPWHAAAUMPWHAAAUMPWHAAAUMPWHAAAUMP! WHAAAUMPWHAAAUMPWHAAAUMP! WHAAAUMPWHAAAUMPWHAAAUMP! WHAAAUMPWHAAAUMPWHAAAUMPWHAAAUMPWHAAAUMP! WHAAAUMPWHAAAUMPWHAAAUMPWHAAAUMPWHAAAUMP!!
"AIEEYOWEEE!! AIYEE-UH-OWOWOWOWOWWWW!! NOOOO-AH!! STOP!! OWOWOWWWEEE!! STOP! PLEASE!! OOOO-AH-OWOWOWWW!! NO MOOOOOREE!!! STOP!! PUH-LEAZE!! OWOWOWWWWAHHH!! YOWOWOWW!! DAD, PLEASE!! OWOWOWEEEE!!! PLEASE!! STOP IT!"
Matt stopped spanking. Jerry gasped a deep breath, thinking that he had just undergone, but survived, a terrible, humiliating, painful ordeal. Then, Matt reached to the waist of Jerry's briefs and began rapidly pulling them down to join his jeans around his ankles. Matt then reached down and grabbed Jerry's belt, pulling it out of the loops of his jeans.
"OOOO-NOOOO!! DAD! NOOOOO-uh NOT THAT!!!"
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACKCRACKCRACK! CRACKCRACKCRACKCRACK! CRACKCRACKCRAC CRACKCRACK! CRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACK! CRACKCRACKCRACCRACKCRACK!! CRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACK!!
"YEEAIIOWOWOWWW!! OWEEEYOWEEEYOWWW!! OOO-AH-NOOO!! OOO-AH-YOWEEEYOWEEEYOWWWW!! STOP! STOP! STOP! OOOO-AH-UH OOOOO-AH-I'M SORRY!! AIIEEEYOWOWOWWW!! P-PLEASE! PLEASE! STOP!! PLEASE, DAD!! I'M SORRY! YOU'RE RIGHT!! I WON'T DRIVE WITH THE TV!! YOU'RE RIGHT, DAD! OWOWOWWWW!! DAD! DAD! YEEOWWW!! DAD! I SAID I'M SORRY!! OOOOO-UH-UH-OWOWW-AUGH-AHHH! I'M SORRRRRY!! NOOO-UH-UH-NOOOO!! P-PLEASE!! OWOWOWEEEE!! OOO-UH-UH-OWWWEEEYOWW!
Jerry was screaming as the belt bit at every point, from things to inner buttocks, blistering his bottom all over, completely. He was frantic and the strangling sobs began cascading over each other, as he collapsed into screaming, wailing, sobbing, choking, and shaking. The flaming inferno on his rear end was just one, constant, scorching fire that got hotter and hotter and hotter. Finally, he just succumbed and lay there hanging, heaving, howling until he could not speak, and could scarcely breath.
When it was over, his Dad let him lie there a while longer, sobbing and shaking. Finally, Matt reached under his son's arms and lifted him up, off his lap. Jerry was shuddering and gasping still, tears streaming down his face an onto his shirt and jacket.
"Pull up your pants, son, and head on into bed. Your mother will call Jeff's cottage and let him know that you can't go out. The next time you entertain the idea of heading out to drive around in the middle of the night – or anytime with a tv in the car – you remember this lesson. Because if you try it again, there'll be another session of driver education a lot more intense than this one!"
"Y-yes, sir. I-uh will." Jerry stammered, carefully pulling up his briefs and jeans. He did not ask or reach for his belt, but just hobbled out of the porch, into the cottage and upstairs to the loft where his bedroom was located.