One Friday afternoon, Coach Curtis of the Longville High School football team sent a copy of the following message to the father of each of his five star players, the latter being asked to deliver the notes in person:
Dear Mr Mason (or Williams, Turner, Swift, or Lewis): It has come to my attention that your son, along with four of his buddies who are also members of my team, has been detected more than once indulging in unbecoming and self-destructive behaviour. For the boys' sakes I won't reveal particulars, but drinking and reckless actions in an automobile were involved. I know that you and the other dads are responsible, affectionate parents. This encourages me to recommend that you gentlemen take matters in hand , in a firm and fatherly way that I can easily guess, before these young men get themselves into trouble which could endanger both their academic and athletic careers. Sincerely, Ed Curtis
The five football jocks accepted the messages, not suspecting the contents, in the same cheerfull manner in which their beloved coach presented them, and promised to hand the notes to their dads that evening.
Coach Curtis watched his star players depart, then smiled. He was truly concerned about this young guys, and felt sure that his advice would spur the five fathers to find a quick way to curb their sons' foolishness. He looked forward to seeing the results on Monday morning.
Coach Curtis had previously scheduled a before-school practice session for Monday morning to prepare for the big game later that week. As the team assembled bright and early and began to change clothes, he noticed that his five top players, in a little group of their own as always, were holding back, obviously waiting to have the locker room to themselves before undressing. The coach would have none of this. He wanted to verify that the boys' fathers had lived up to his expectations, and also felt that the other players would benefit from the knowledge as well.
"Hey, everybody, gather round!" he shouted.
The team formed a wide half-circle around the coach and the bench on which he had one foot propped.
"Mason, Williams, Turner, Lewis, Smith! Front and center!"
The five boys came forward meekly, guessing why they had been singled out.
"Did you boys give your dads those messages for me?"
A few nods of the head and replies of "Yes, coach" followed.
A smiling, superior look crossed Coach Curtis' face. "Yeah? Let's just see. Williams! Up here! Now drop 'em and on the bench!"
Williams stood motionless in surprise. "What, coach?"
"You heard me. Pull down your pants and kneel down on the bench."
All but four of Williams' teammates stared at him wonderingly. The remaining four looked on with sympathy.
"Now, Williams!" the coach ordered.
The embarrassed athlete unbuckled his belt, undid his jeans and pulled them down to his knees, then bent down on all fours on the bench. His white cotton briefs were stretched tight and thin, jam packed with the jock butt they covered.
"Williams, " said his coach, not without sarcasm, "When I said pants down I meant underpants too."
The kid gave Coach Curtis a pleading look, but finding only grim determination there, reached down and lowered his underpants to join his jeans.
An outburst of laughter erupted from the majority of the onlookers. Williams' butt was red. Bright red. The boys had never seen a butt quite that red before
"Oooee, Williams!" Coach Curtis whistled. "Let's have a closer look at that!" He bent down to make an examination. "Hmm. Some oval-shaped patches here and there. Your dad use a hairbrush?'
Williams humbly nodded.
"For a good long time it looks like. That shade of red takes a while to produce. Did he put your over his knee?"
Another nod.
"I knew I could count on him. Hey, guys - Williams still goes over his daddy's knee!"
Derisive chuckles greeted this, and Coach Curtis moved on to his next subject.
"Mason! Drop trou and on the bench! Let's see what your dad had to say."
Mason lowered his pants and underpants, and took his place by Williams.
"That's right. Cheek to cheek! Now what have we here?" he asked, surveying the red butt that Mason had just bared. "Oh, yeah! Several nice long rectangles. Your dad used his belt, right?"
Mason sniffed, "Yes, coach."
"Good for him! And look at these little red circles. That belt must have studs on it."
"Oh, boy, does it!"
The coach laughed. "Okay, who's next? Lewis!"
While Lewis began uncovering his hindquarters, the other boys imagined themselves in his place. A jock normally didn't mind having to bare his butt in front of the guys. But what if that butt were red?
Especiallly as red as the one Lewis was now exhibiting.
"My, my, my," taunted Coach Curtis. "I'd say it took a full-sized strap to make those marks. Am I right, Lewis?"
"Ohhh.."
"And I'll bet it was one of those antique, classic razor straps, too."
"Ohhh..."
"I knew it! Your dad is so old-fashioned. He put a few across your thighs, too, I see. I'm guessing you had to take off all your clothes and lie across your bed?"
"Waaah!"
"Hey, everybody - Lewis' dad made him take off all his clothes for his whipping!"
Murmurs of appreciation for Lewis' dad arose from the crowd.
"Okay, Swift. Come join your buddies and let's find out what dear old dad used on your butt."
Swift produced the latter article for his coach's consideration.
"Looky, looky. I'll bet you guys can guess what Swift's dad gave him." He indicated the many slender red stripes decorating the upturned butt.
Several voices called, "A switch!"
Nothing but," Coach Curtis agreed. "Now, was it hickory or willow or what?" He ran a thick forefinger along one of the stripes, making Swift wince.
"Oww! Willow! Oww!"
"This is great, boys. Your dads are exactly the men I thought they were. Your turn, Turner. Let's see that butt!"
But when jock number five complied, the coach gasped, "Turner! What happened?"
Turner's butt was snow-white.
"Well, coach, my dad had to go out of town, and won't be back until this afternoon."
"Don't worry, son. I came prepared for something like this." He retrieved his paddle from a nearby locker.
"Coach - c'mon, coach..."
"What's the matter, Turner? You don't want to stand out in the crowd, do you? You want to fit in with your pals, don't you?"
"Noooh!"
The other boys were both amused and intimidated. Coach Curtis sometimes paddled on the bare, but always in the privacy of his office to spare the recipient the embarrassment of crying like a baby in front of his teammates.
Crack, crack, crack! The coach quickly provided Turner with a butt just like his buddies'.
"I guess we'll learn your father's opinion tomorrow, Turner." He then touched up the other four backsides with a few swats, making them glow anew.
What a sight! Ten red butt cheeks all in a row! And the boys had to go to classes and sit on those cheeks!
Coach Curtis lectured, "Why are you guys crying? You should be grateful to have such caring dads. I'm going to call every one of them and thank him for his cooperation. Who says today's parents are apathetic?"