Part I
'Rowwwh! Rowhhh!' Bright sparks flew in the damp night air. Gary swung the burning cat by the rope tied to its tail while Gary's friends cheered. It was the fourth of July, and they had decided to make some original fireworks. 'Rowwhh!' the flaming cat screamed, and Gary swung it around his head until the flames died down and the cat's screams had stopped and there was only the ugly smell of burned cat fur and flesh mixed with kerosene. It had seemed great fun at the time, while all of them were drunk, but when twenty-year old Gary stood tall in front of the judge, wearing a suit for the first time since he was a young boy (his lawyer had insisted on it), and trying to look very dignified, no one else seemed to see the humor of it. 'You're lucky that we live in an enlightened state which allows me to give a boy under the age of twenty-one suitable punishment,' said Judge Atkins, his lined face with its deep, cold eyes looking down from the bench at Gary. 'If you were twenty-one, I would give you six months in jail for cruelty to animals.' Gray gasped. Six months in jail? 'Instead I am able to make the punishment fit the crime. I am pleased to sentence you to be strapped with a police belt, twenty hits, to be administered with your pants down.' (Note to British readers: 'pants' in America means 'trousers'.)
The sentence was carried out two weeks later, 'to give you time to think about what you have done, and regret it,' the judge had said. When Gary arrived with his friends at his small town's Police Station at ten a. m., he was amazed to find crowds of newspapermen and television cameramen. Attempts were made to put microphones in front of his face, and ask him -- for the benefit of the nation's public -- how he felt about the punishment he was about to receive. Gary's friends angrily pushed them aside. He climbed the stairs to the Station, and two police officers accompanied him inside. Taken into the Chief of Police's large office, he found Judge Atkins, Chief of Police Parker, the town doctor, Dr. Miller, and two burly policemen present. Both of the policemen, Officer Burk and Officer Strong, were well known to Gary from previous arrests for fighting while drunk. He was grateful that no one with a camera had been admitted to watch the punishment. Officer Burk walked up to Gary and looked at him hard in the face. He had huge muscles from weight lifting. 'Strip off all of your clothes.' Gary turned pleadingly to Judge Atkins. 'Judge,', he said, 'you said that my pants will be down! You didn't say I would have to strip!' Chief of Police Parker approached him. He was a small, potbellied man, with a forced smile on his face. 'Calm down, young man. Every thing will be done properly. The doctor is going to examine you to be sure that you can stand up to the punishment. After every six hits, he'll examine you again.' 'But why do I have to strip?' 'Look, stupid,' said Office Burk, bringing his face close to Gary's, 'you have to take your shirt off so the doctor can examine you. You have to take your pants off so I can beat the hell out of you. And you'd look petty stupid standing there wearing just your shoes and socks, so you're going to take those off too!' The Judge sat down in a leather padded chair to one side. The Chief sat down in his high-backed leather chair behind his solid mahogany desk. They watched him as he stripped. Shaking with anger, he removed his jacket, tie and shirt. When he took off his undershirt, he felt them looking at his hairless chest, the body of a boy. THEY were all men. Soon he had on only his tight underpants, and saw that all eyes were on that bulge, waiting to see what he had there. With humiliation, he finished stripping and stood before them. Doctor Miller, a big, ruddy-faced man, had him sit down on a high wooden stool, listened to his heart with his stethoscope, tapped him on the back and on the knees. 'He's fine.' 'Bend over the desk.' Gary stood up nervously. Officer Burk wore a policeman's belt around his waist which was of thick leather, about two inches wide. It had a huge steel buckle, about three inches square. Was he going to be beaten with that? Gary felt skinny and flat-chested standing next to the heavily-muscled officer, who had now removed his jacket, tie and shirt, and was wearing only a form-fitting white tee-shirt. Gary was taller, with a thin, flexible body, and could hold his own with almost anybody in a fair fight, but naked he felt small and weak. He walked over to the only desk in the room, at which the Chief of Police was sitting. Officer Strong stood behind the desk, next to the Chief. 'Bend over here.' Officer Strong had similarly stripped off his jacket, tie and shirt. His tee-shirt emphasized his huge chest muscles. He reached across the desk, gripped Gary's wrists and pulled him down over the desk. 'You'll get six hits. Then you'll go over and sit down on that stool and the doc will examine you. If he says O. K., you'll come back here for the next six.' 'Can I hit him with the buckle?' he heard Office Burk say. Bent over the desk, his upper thighs pressed by the wood top of the desk, his wrists held tightly by Officer Strong, Gary held his breath. His buttocks rose in the air, every muscle tensed. 'You really want to hurt him, don't you?' he heard the Chief say. Gary turned his head and realized the Chief was sitting right next to him, his face only two feet away. 'Don't worry, there'll be plenty of blood before you're through. There's no need to use the buckle.' Gary shuddered, and then the end of that twisting belt crashed against his bare buttocks. He gasped but tried to control himself. He didn't want to let them see how much it hurt. The swinging belt snapped in the air, whipping down again and again. One hit in the middle. The next to the left. The next to the right. When the same spot was hit a second time, he felt that blood was drawn. His body jerked spasmodically. Suddenly his wrists were released. He stood up with difficulty, his head swimming. 'You're being easy on him,' said Office Strong, who had come around the table to look at Gary's buttocks. 'You'll have the next turn,' answered Officer Burk, affably. 'Sit down, boy.' He walked slowly over to the high stool, pulled himself painfully up and sat while the doctor examined him. 'He's fine,' said the doc. Gary slipped gingerly off the stool, and looked back to see blood on the seat. He shuddered. Walking to the desk, he realized that the Judge was now sitting in the Chief's chair. The Chief was standing to the side, evidently to get a different view. The Judge and the Chief had traded places. Also the two police officers had traded places. This time Officer Burk reached over for his wrists. Gary pulled back instinctively. 'Come on, boy,' said Judge Atkins, now facing him, 'this isn't a social occasion.'
Part II
Gary bent over the desk and Officer Burk grabbed him roughly, pulling him down. Gary looked up and saw Judge Atkins looking at him with contempt. 'When I was a boy, I took my punishment like a man.' I AM a man, Gary wanted to scream. But with his buttocks in the air, and the thought of the next hits to come, Gary was unable to open his mouth. 'Think about that cat you set on fire,' said Officer Strong. Then, flexing his powerful biceps, he laid on the seventh hit with tremendous force. The two-inch wide, thick, rough leather police belt twisted in the air, the end of the belt cracking as it hit. It smashed into the center of Gary's right buttock. He jerked uncontrollably. The eighth hit fell explosively on exactly the same spot, and brought a cry to his lips. When the ninth hit fell cracking on exactly the same spot, Gary knew that skin had been stripped off, and that blood was flowing down his leg. He screamed. 'Sounds like a cat in pain,' he heard someone say. 'See if you can do that again.' When the tenth hit fell, again on the same spot, Gary fainted. 'Stop,' said Dr. MIller. 'Bring him over here.' They dragged Gary over to the big leather arm-chair, and lay him across the arms. 'Maybe we should just whip him this way,' said Officer Burk. The doctor checked Gary's heart, then used smelling salts to wake him up. They sat him down on the stool, the two officers supporting him so he wouldn't fall over. The searing pain in Gary's buttocks brought tears to the corners of his eyes. 'You fainted, boy,' said Judge Atkins. 'We're going to let you rest a bit.' Gary shivered. 'How many more?' he whispered. 'You know,' said Officer Burk cheerfully, 'my wife and kids and I have five cats. So you're gonna get ten more, two for each cat.' Gary cringed. 'Hasn't he rested long enough?' asked Officer Strong. 'We're going to let him rest here for eight minutes,' answered Doc. 'You'll see why when he gets up.' The Chief whooped at that, but the officers looked puzzled. When eight minutes had passed, the doctor told Gary to get up. Gary tried, but he felt as if he were glued to the stool. 'I can't get up.' His voice cracked. 'Ha!' laughed the chief. 'Eight minutes is how long it takes for blood to coagulate!' 'He's glued to the stool with his own blood!' chortled the doctor. 'I have a cat at home, too,' he said turning to Gary. 'Get up, boy,' said the Judge. 'Get up,' said the Officers. Getting up meant tearing the skin and blood which had dried and stuck to the stool. Gary was unable to move. Officer Burk grabbed the stool from behind, and Officer Strong began pulling him forward. 'Slowly,' said the doctor, 'very slowly.' 'You're the boss,' said Officer Strong, obviously puzzled. 'That way it hurts more.' Gary cried out in pain. He stood only with help from the two officers. He was afraid to look back to see what might be stuck to the stool seat. They walked him back to the desk. Judge Atkins was still there, staring at him with his cold eyes. Officer Burk pulled Gary forward, bending him over the desk. 'Give him six more,' said the Chief from behind him. 'But spread it around a bit. You've done a beautiful job on the right side, but get him in the middle and on the left too. Especially in the middle.' Gary's legs shook. Once again his buttocks were high in the air, waiting tensely for the explosion that would be caused by the next hit of that belt. Number eleven fell on the left side. Number twelve in the center, making Gary squeeze his legs together frantically. Number thirteen hit again in the center, right in the crack, and Gary cried out in pain. 'Spread it around, we don't want him fainting again,' he heard the doc say. Fourteen was on the left, and he felt the skin torn. Fifteen again in the center in the crack, and he began struggling frantically, trying to get his arms loose. 'Lookit that,' said Officer Burk. 'I wonder if that cat tried to get its tail free they way he's trying to get his arms free.' Tears burst from Gary's eyes. He felt like he was a small child who had just been humiliated in front of the whole classroom. The picture of that flaming cat came in front of his eyes, and he knew, for the first time, that he had done wrong. Sixteen fell on the right, on that torn, half bleeding, half dried bloody spot. He screamed again, his head swum, he thought he was going to faint. They lifted him up, walked him over and pulled him up onto the stool, the officers supporting him on both sides. Doc listened to his heart. 'It's ticking away fast, but good and strong. Let's let him rest another eight minutes, and then finish.' 'No!' cried Gary. He didn't want to be glued to the stool again. 'Why, Gary,' said the doctor, 'are you in a hurry to get hit again?' Gary stared at the laughing faces. Even the Judge was laughing at him now. 'Please, let me rest standing up!' 'Let's get it over with,' said Officer Burk, pulling Gary up onto his feet. 'Wait!' The two officers pulled him back to the desk. This time Officer Strong grabbed his wrists. The officers had traded places again. Gary was relieved, since it seemed to him that Officer Burk didn't hit as hard. 'Try and give him the last four in the middle. I don't want him to be able to sit down for a month,' said the Chief, who was now sitting in his chair, two feet away from Gary's face. 'Look at me!' said the Chief to Gary. 'Doc, could you hold his head up so I can watch his face?' 'Gladly,' said the doctor, pulling Gary's head back firmly by the forehead. 'Keep your eyes on the Chief.' 'Think about that cat,' said the Chief. The seventeenth hit crashed suddenly on the center of Gary's buttocks, and he twisted in pain. He tried to free his head from the firm grip of the doc, as tears of shame and pain filled his eyes. He was twenty years old, but he was acting like a baby. The eighteenth hit brought a cry to his lips. 'Wait!' he said. He was forced to stare at the small, round smiling face of the Chief, and hated him. Nineteen fell again in the center, and he squeezed his legs and buttocks in pain, trying to protect the crack from the next hit. Tears rolled down his cheeks. He couldn't have said why he was crying, but having the Chief watch him do so was something he would never forget as long as he lived. Number twenty fell on the same spot, but Gary had lost count. His whole body was shaking, his nose was running, his eyes clouded with tears, his thighs hurt from the pressure of the table, his wrists from the tight grip, and his buttocks were in flame. When they let him stand up, he slid to the floor, and lay on the rug. '_d_a_m_n_,' said the Chief, standing over him, 'he got blood on my rug.' They laid him naked across the arms of the leather covered chair and let him rest for about ten minutes. Doc checked Gary's heart and said that everything was fine. He put iodine on the cuts. They helped him dress in his suit and tie, and walked him to the front steps of the Police Station, where photographers and newspapermen waited.
'Look at this,' said Gary's brother as Gary lay on his stomach on his bed, his flaming buttocks uncovered because he couldn't stand to have anything touch them. 'Your picture's in all the newspapers.' There he was, photographed standing on the top landing of the steps, straight and tall. His head held high, his chest forward, his shoulders back, his buttocks pulled in, looking down at the photographer. If you didn't know he had been beaten, you might think he was standing there proudly, but in fact it was the terrible pain that made him stand that way. He read the article. Judge Atkins was quoted as saying, 'We have a quiet town, and we don't have much trouble with our boys. If they get caught misbehaving, they know how they'll be punished. They know their pants will be down, and that humiliates them.' (Note to British readers: 'pants' in America means 'trousers'.) What a liar the judge was, thought Gary. How easy it would have been if the only humiliating thing they had done to him was to make him take his 'pants down'.