"Frank, please report to the office." Frank was worried. What was going on? He walked slowly down the corridor, past the gym, and down the hallway to the office.
"I was just called in," Frank meekly told the secretary.
"Go right in, Mr. Brighams is waiting for you."
He knocked discreetly at the door, then proceeded to open it. As soon as he saw the boy sitting in front of the desk, he knew he was in trouble. Johnathan F. Heffler had always resented him for getting the alst seat on the student council. He had always made trouble, and he was always believed. He always felt the strap twice on days when he found himself called to the office on Johnathan's account.
"Frank, sit down," said the Principle. "Johnathan here says that you threw his backpack into a puddle. Is this true?"
"No, sir."
"And why should I believe you?"
Frank could already feel the fire in his athletic butt.
"I'm honest sir?" This was said with as much humbleness as possible.
"I don't care for the sarcasim in your voice, boy. And for that, I am going to be liberal and give you the strapping you've got coming in front of Johnathan. Frank, I hate to do this, but you're going to get 75 strokes of the senior strap on your bottom. Your bare bottom. And, for being sassy to me, I'm going to apply 15 strokes to each of the soles of your feet. Please remove your clothing and bend over the desk."
"But, sir, I didn't do this."
"And for that, your going to get an extra fifteen strokles per foot."
Frank went about getting undressed. Soon, he ws leaning over the desk, with Johnathan standing there watching him!
"We'll start with your feet. Lift your right foot. If you drop it, we will begin again."
Frank knew he had no choice. He lifted his right foot. The principal again warned him, and he then began to swing the strap. Frank yelped with every stroke. He suddenly realized why the principal had started with his feet. He would have to stand on them while the Principal strapped his bottom.
After fifteen storkes, Frank was bawling, and by the time he finished the right foot, he was a tearful mess. The principal proceeded to the left foot. Disaster struck on the 29th stroke, as he dropped his foot. By that time, his feet hurt too much to care. He made it through the next 30.
Then came his bottom. He was forced to count each stroke, thena sk for the next. If he lost count, he would repeat the whipping.
The principal began.
Frank lost count four times, always near the fiftieth stroke.
He slid off the desk at the end, lying there crying. Johnathan left, and Frank went back to class. He was allowed to stand.
Walking home and PE were particularly difficult that day.
And it was not the end.
Slowly he walked home. He knew that his father always doubled if he recieved anything at school.
Therefor, he recieved sixty strokes per foot, and 200 strokes per foot.
He pleaded with his dad, but it was no good.
He was helped upstairs by his borther Joe, who then spent the rest of the night comforting Frank. Frank was unconstious for most of the time, but Joe didn't mind. He knew how hard it could be, and he was just pulling up his pants as Frank walked in.
But thats another story.