Back in my younger days, before we became so well-informed about the dangers of excessive sun exposure, I used to love swimming and sunbathing, which I did at every possible opportunity. The coolness of the water and the inexorable, baking heat of the sun, contrasted in a way that was very pleasing. I soon turned as brown as a chestnut, except for the small area of "virgin" skin where my bathing trunks were. Among my closest friends, "cotton tail" was my nickname.
On one particular summer day, I had been floating in the pool for an hour or so, and was just getting stretched out in the sun, when I saw my uncle coming around the corner of the house. (He was staying with us for a couple of weeks while my folks were out of the country.) He held the dog's water dish (empty) in one hand, and, to my instant dismay, the dreaded paddle in the other. Suddenly, I remembered his last warning about keeping the dog's water dish full in this hot weather. My heart sank, drumming like mad, and my mouth went dry as he spoke.
"This is the third time since I've been here," he barked. "And, just like I told you, you're in big trouble. Come with me."
I scrambled up, still dripping, and began trying to explain myself.
"I was just going to..." I began, but Uncle Fred cut me off at the pass.
"I don't want to hear any excuses," he said, and, seizing my upper arm in an iron grip, he dragged me over to the garden hose and stood over me while I filled Daisy's dish, then escorted me to the other side of the house where the doghouse was. I put the dish down and patted Daisy absently, who wagged her tail briefly, but looked like she wanted to laugh out loud. She KNEW.
Uncle Fred then dragged me to the back door and into the house. The sudden coolness of the room brought goosebumps to the surface, and I shivered in my clammy, wet trunks. There were no more ceremonies; Uncle simply sat down on a convenient ottoman and yanked me over his knees. My hands instinctively reached back and covered my vulnerable bottom, but Uncle managed to seize both of my hands with his left hand and held them in the small of my back.
A short pause, in which I was sharply aware of the gentle buzz of the window unit, the smell of Lemon Pledge on the furniture, and a strange, hollow, roaring sound inside my ears...then, like an explosion came the first swat, searing through the wet fabric of my trunks and setting my ass on fire! I wasn't a brave lad, none of that hero crap; I screamed like a banshee, and, as the swats continued to land squarely in the middle of my rounded, bubble-shaped fanny, I was soon bawling like a pin-stuck baby. I kicked my legs, I wiggled and struggled on Uncle's rock-hard, hairy thighs; finally, I began begging him to stop, promising to never forget again. I might as well have read the newspaper out loud.
After about twenty really hard licks, he stopped, but held me down. My butt was shrieking with firey pain, and I was blubbering and sobbing. All I could think of was how badly I wanted to rub away the incredible sting and spreading numbness in my rear, but I was still trapped and helpless. Finally, I calmed down enough to where Uncle could be heard, and he lectured me briefly about our duty to the animals who couldn't fend for themselves in the city. I had heard the speech before, but I guarantee you I'd never listened this closely. He went on to assure me that what I'd just received was just a "down payment" on what I'd get if I ever, EVER, was so careless with responsibility again. I never made it necessary for him to carry out that threat.
A few minutes later, in the bathroom, I took a look at the damages. From where I was standing, it looked like "cotton tail" just wasn't going to work as a nickname for a while...