My worst spanking  − 1 June, 1982

I don't remember when this happened exactly. But I can remember it like it was yesterday.
I was over at Eric's house on a summer afternoon, goofing around like so many summer afternoons before and after. At the time we used to play kickball in the street where the pitcher's mound would be on one sidewalk, you'd pitch across the street and home place would be just before the next sidewalk. Boom. Kick the ball into the front yeard if you cleared the house it was a home run. If you hit the house, and it bounced off, you could catch it for an out. Eric's parents told us never to play facing the house because we'd break a window. But we were kids and it didn't occur to us that they might be right and that it would result in corporal punishment. Needless to say, I kicked the ball this once, and shattered an upstairs window. Eric and I locked eyes and did the "Oh shit" dance. I mean we were running in place just freaking because there was no getting out of this one. Sure enough, we ran upstairs to his parents' bedroom, the scene of the crime and Eric's dad was already there surveying the damage. Leif rolled up his sleeves and said the words, "pull your pants down." Now there are a few philosophies on invoking physical pain as a means of educating errant, youthful ways. Some say it's wrong. Some say, use a belt. Some say use a bare hand. My dad would use a belt. He'd snap it as he approached so as to cause the greatest amount of fear. 10 points for theatrics. 10 points for pain. If you use a belt, you don't make the kid pull down his pants. The other method, the method that Erci's dad preferred was bare hand on bare ass. No sooner than leif said the words were Eric and I turning to run away only to be stopped by a wall of sound screaming the same exact phrase. "PULL YOUR PANTS DOWN!" Simultaneously Eric and I pulled our pants down so quick I sprained my thumb. Now what goes through one's mind when he's about to be spanked is still a matter of myster to me. After that all I remember is collecting myself off the ground, sobbing, and looking at Eric as he got the tar whipped out of him second. Eric was bent over his dad's knees with his pink ass getting pinker by the second. Eric's dad's hands are the leatheriest, heaviest, most solid bits of flesh on the planet. The forceful combination of those mits with our tender hienies still makes me cringe. Having been sent to Eric's room to cool off and think about what we'd done, we waited, and waited, until we felt the timme might be right to go back downstairs to see if our presence insighted the threat of yet more flesh-sport. When we got down to the kitchen, there were my parents and Eric's parents smoking and drinking and laughing like nothing had happened. It turns out that after our spanking, Leif called my folks and told them he whupped me. They came right over to thank him and make things better with a 6-pack of Rolling Rocks. Traitors.

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