"Oh yes. Jonathan, we have a problem here. It seems that both Mr. Oatman and Mr. Little reported to me that the dates had been changed on some deficiency slips. We take a most dim view of that and consider it to be a form of forgery. As I have told you before, forgery calls for immediate expulsion from school. Is there anything that you would like to say before we determine a punishment?"
For the second day in a row, I am now crying in school. "Please, Sir, I am real real sorry. It was a dumb thing to do, and I know I deserve to get punished, but please, please don't expell me! I'll do anything to keep that from happening. I just didn't want my parents to know I kept the deficiencies from them for a whole weekend--please, I still got them signed." I was really blubbering and whining.
After what seemed an eternity, the dean looked up into my tear streaked face and said, "I have decided not to expell you--but..." he reached in his drawer, and out came that pad of red slips, "I usually never have to give a student two of these, but I am afraid that you are going to get another--as well as a longer note explaining in detail for your parents why it will be neccessary to whip you. You are required to sit there and write the longer note."
I sat down and began to write the full story of what I had done, and then write about how much I deserved to both be whipped at school and at home--apprehensively realizing that both would definitely be carried out very soon. There is one sentence that I remember vividly writing, "I know that I have to get whipped at home because of this too, and I request that I get my whipping at home immediately." I knew that this sentence would seal my fate that for the second day in a row, my bottom would burn. The dean reviewed my letter, and with approval, stapled it to the red slip which I reviewed--stating that I would get eighteen lashes with a strap the next day on the bare bottom.
That afternoon, when I got home I gave the papers to my mother who was still angry from the deficiencies and Mom ordered me to my room to await my father's arrival. I wished that I was dead or somewhere else. I was really scared--crying and sweating and twitching--oh it would have been so easy if I had gotten those slips signed on Friday--and sure, I would have been whipped if I had waited until Monday morning--but at least it would be over with--and I got my butt busted Monday anyway. I sure blew this one! Isn't hindsight great? Well, I would have to take this, and I resolved to take it like a man and not fight it.
My father got home at about 5:30 that evening, just as I was finishing my homework, and rather than calling me downstairs, he came up to my room.
"Jonathan, I understand that you weren't quite truthful with us about those deficiencies that I signed last night. Why did you change the dates?"
"I sort of just didn't want to have to show them to you at the start of the weekend. It's not fair that they give them to you on a Friday! and I sort of, you know, wanted to enjoy my weekend."
"And Now, you realize that you need to pay for that."
"Yyyess, SSSssirrr." My bottom was twitching and my mouth was going dry as we sat on my bed. I was scared.
"Well, Let's go down to the basement--I think that we can take care of the business that we need to down there."
I got up and walked downstairs and past my brothers and sisters as they watched television, looking up to see a scared fourteen year old leading a procession--followed by a stern and angry father--then through the kitchen where my mother looked up at the forced march--my father saying, "I am taking Jonathan to the basement for a few minutes--we will be back up as soon as he has taken his medicine." The whole family knew what medicine had been prescribed. We reached the basement steps and I opened the door and walked slowly down into the dungeon.
In the middle of the unfinished basement--cement floor and concrete block walls--was an old picnic bench that my father directed me to and with wobbly legs, I went where I was told.
"Jonathan, Take off your clothes now." As I pulled my t-shirt and Keds off, my father got a towel from the top of the washing machine and draped the end of the bench so that the splitery wood was covered. Then as I loosened the belt on my cut off jeans, he loosened his belt and while I let my jeans drop to my feet, he pulled his belt out of the loops. Then I slowly pulled my Fruit of the Looms down and stepped out of my pants and underpants. The only thing on me now that was not a part of me was the set of metal braces on my teeth--and they sure couldn't help me avoid any of my medicine.
"Now, Jonathan, I want you to straddle the bench." I stepped over the bench--one leg on each side so that my feet were well spread apart. "Now, Hold the bench right where it touches your knees."