"Now over here, Dad. I want you to pay special attention to this set." Scott Caan was giving his dad a tour of the studio where the filming of "Varsity Blues" was in progress. They stood on a soundstage representing a city street, a sportscar parked at its center. "This is the setting of my big scene."
"Yeah, I wish you'd tell me more about this big scene, Scott."
"You'll see it in a minute in the screening room. But I will say this: if it doesn't make me the hottest thing in Hollywood, there's something wrong with the American public."
"Scott, I've told you again and again I don't like this conceited attitude of yours."
"I'm just telling it like it is, Dad. This movie belongs to me!"
"Son, you need to watch your mouth before..."
"Aw, Dad, what's the problem?" He gave Jim a nudge in the ribs. "Jealous because I'm going to have the career you wish you had?"
Jim clenched his teeth. He was dismayed at his son's increasingly arrogant behavior over the past few months, and now the kid was getting insufferable! "You know I'm proud of you, son, but..."
"Right, Dad." Scott patted his father's shoulder condescendingly. "Now let's take a look at a star in the making."
Jim sighed and as they walked off, tried to control his temper by changing the subject. "Aren't those new clothes, Scott?"
"Yeah, pretty snazzy, huh? And get a load of this." He pointed to his waist. "Pretty impressive, don't you think?" He indicated a broad and apparently fairly thick belt of black shiny leather that gleamed here and there with sharp-edged silver studs. "That's genuine Italian leather, not to mention real silver. And get this - it cost two hundred bucks!"
"For a belt? That's pretty expensive."
"Hey, nothing but the best for me from now on."
"Sure, son, but can you afford..."
"Dad, Dad, money is no object for the up and coming."
Jim was about to give his son another reprimand, but they had arrived at the screening room.
A few minutes later, Scott, his face beaming at his own performance, sat watching the clip from the upcoming film. His father, in contrast, sat in stony silence. Soon the lights came on.
"Well, Dad, don't you think we just saw one of Hollywood's soon-to-be highest paid actors?"
Jim stared at his son for a moment, then asked, "What in the world were you thinking?"
"Dad, what..."
"Come here!" Jim pulled his son up from the chair and shoved him into the aisle.
"Dad!" Scott protested, as his father dragged him toward the door.
Jim looked back and said, "Excuse us" to the startled occupants of the room. Once outside, he slammed the door and began his lecture. "I've never been so embarrassed in my life!"
"Embarrassed?"
"How did you expect I'd feel when I saw my son with his pants down and his butt up there on the screen, ten feet wide for everybody to see? Can you imagine the ribbing I'm going to get for that?"
"It was just a little mooning scene..."
"And then running around naked, cavorting with those girls like some randy teenager!"
"That's what I am."
"What?"
"I mean on the screen."
"Well, I'm sorry to say, off the screen you're a bratty teenager!"
"Huh?"
"I'm siick of your constant bragging. I'll bet you think you're pretty hot stuff up there on the screen, prancing around without your clothes?"
"Well, yeah..."
"I'll show you what hot is!" He grabbed Scott and dragged him by the ear over to the city set.
"What are you doing, Dad?"
"I'm about to take that ego of yours down a peg, Scott."
"What do you mean?" his son cried in alarm.
"I mean that I going to give you a long overdue whipping!"
"You can't be serious!"
"Do I look like I'm joking?" Jim pushed his son against the parked car. "I knew I stopped spanking you way too soon!"
Scott looked worriedly around. "Dad, there are people watching!" Indeed a crowd, attracted by Jim's yelling, had formed on the edges of the set.
"Well you ought to enjoy that, Mr. big shot celebrity. So let's really give them something to look at!" He began unbuckling his belt.
"Dad, please, not that!"
Jim paused. "You're right, Scott. This belt is pretty much worn out. It's way too flexible." He pointed to Scott's waist. "So I'm gonna use yours."
"My new belt!"
"It looks like it's a lot sturdier anyway. Lemme have it."
"Please..."
"And you can just keep on going and drop your pants."
Scott almost had the belt out of his pants loops when he heard this and froze. "You mean - on the bare butt?"
"That's right, son, you're gonna get it on your bare butt, just like you used to. If you've forgotten, it has been too long."
"But right here in front of everybody?" By this time, the group from the screening room had joined the swelling crowd.
"What's your problem, Scott? They've all seen your butt before. And they're going to see it again. Of course, when I get through with it, they won't recognize it!" He grabbed the belt from his son's limp hand. "Over the hood!"
"No, I..."
Jim spun him around and across the front of the car. He grabbed Scott's jeans and pulled them down to his knees. Titters of laughter came from the onlookers, who had up to now maintained an awed silence.
"It looks like you haven't exactly made a hit with your co-workers, son. They seem pretty eager for me to start whipping your uppity butt." He grabbed the waistband of Scott's fruit of the looms and yanked them down to join the jeans. "There we are, son, just like in the movie."
Scott howled and pounded his fists against the car hood.
"Why the fuss, son? You did it for the camera, you can do it for your dear old dad." He tauntingly patted the upthrust cheeks, a gentle touch in stark contrast to what would follow.
The onlookers approached closer to the center of the action.
"Hey, son, you've got a big crowd assembled here. So let's get that butt up higher where they can see it good!" He pushed Scott farther over the car so that he was on tip-toes and his butt, shining under the bright lights, was raised even higher.
Jim folded Scott's brand new belt in half. "Now son, I want you to really appreciate this fine Italian leather." Holding down his son with his left hand, Jim raised the belt with the other. In this dramatic pose, he turned and smiled to the audience, held in suspense. "I guess you all know that my son here has gotten a little big for his britches. Well, I'm about to fix that little problem," he announced, then brought the belt down with all his strength across Scott's butt.
Crack!
""Ow!" Scott cried. "That thing hurt!"
In fact, the belt had left a glowing stripe across his right butt cheek.
"Impressive, huh? You made a fine choice, son."
Crack! The belt struck the left cheek. Scott yelped and jumped. "Dad, please stop!"
"Stop? I haven't even really started yet."
Crack! Crack! Crack! Jim whipped the belt through the air. Scott began to cry and pounded his fists harder.
Crack! Crack! The stripes decorating his butt grew redder and redder.
Crack! Crack! They now formed an intricate criss-cross pattern.
Scott's famous father was really blistering his butt good. "You let a little success go to your head, son, so it's got to come out of your butt!"
"I'm sorry, Dad, pleeease..."
Crack! Crack!
Mr Caan had pretty much covered his son's butt with the stinging stripes of the belt. The silver studs were biting their own pattern into the cheeks. However, this wasn't enough for Jim, who was furious at Scott's snotty behavior, and he went to work applying a second layer.
Crack! Crack!
"Ow! Oh, Dad, owww!" Scott wailed.
"Good acting, son. Those tears look real." Crack! Crack! Chips from the metalwork began to fly off the belt. "But you need to make those yells more convincing. Maybe if I lay some of these across your thighs it'll help."
Crack! Crack!
"Yeooow!"
"That's it, Scott! See, you aren't so good that you can't learn a few acting tips from your old man!"
Crack! Crack!
At last Jim realized he had done enough damage. Each of Scott's butt cheeks sported a bright red oval, with the fiery lines of the belt marks merging so they were barely distinguishable. "Okay, son, I guess you've learned your lesson - for now. Lessons like this usually require more than one session. Especially with an ego as big as yours."
Jim released his hand from Scott's back, and relaxed the other one. Scott shot up and grabbed his butt. "Ow!" he yelped, then rubbed it more gently.
His dad joked, "What's the matter Scott? I wanted to make your wish come true. I wanted to help make you the hottest thing in Hollywood." The audience applauded. Jim held the belt triumphantly in the air. "You're welcome!" he shouted.
Scott was dancing about clumsily, his movement hampered by his pants and underpants which had fallen around his ankles. He suddenly realized what a spectacle he was presenting to the onlookers, and quickly reached down and pulled up his underwear. Even their delicate touch made him wince, so he replaced his jeans with greater care.
"And here's your belt back, son. Thanks for letting me use it." He looked at the well-worn strip of leather. "Uh oh. I'm sorry, son, it looks like I've worn out this brand new expensive belt. There's hardly any of the silver left. I guess you'll have to buy another one."
Scott sniffed and accepted the belt anyway, despite its frayed condition.
"But so what, son, you big celebrities can afford it." His good humor had returned now that he felt he had prompted an improvement in his son's conduct. "Want to have lunch with me, son?"
Scott looked back at the rear end he was still rubbing. "I don't think so, Dad."
"I guess you're right, son. I don't know any place in town that has seats soft enough for you. So I'll see you later at home. And I'll expect a much better attitude."
"Yes, sir."
"We'll talk. And you'll be lucky if that's all we do. It all depends on your conduct."
"You won't be disappointed, Dad."
"I better not be. And I don't guess you'll be showing off that little butt of yours anymore, now that it's nice and red, will you?"
"No, sir."
His dad gave a hearty laugh and looked at the satisfied crowd. "Plenty of people have seen it already. Good-bye, son."
Scott turned around, and with a blush, realized he was going to have to spend the rest of the day with people who had just seen him get a very embarrassing and very well-deserved whipping.