I opened up the garage door to come into the house. We never used the front door, we always came in from the garage door. I had gone over to Tom's house on the way home from school. It was almost 5:00 and I was hungry. As I walked through the garage to the door to the kitchen, I noticed it was open. Mom likes it shut, which is why it is usually open.
I was wondering what was for dinner, and how I was going to make it until 6:30pm when we usually ate when I heard Sam, my youngest brother, say "Yes, sir." Not that usual for Sam, of the three of us, Sam was the polite one. But, just in case, I entered the house making as little noise as possible. Again, I heard him say "Yes, sir", and I could make out my father talking to him, but I couldn't quite understand what he was saying.
They were in the family room and I peeked around and saw both Sam and Nick standing in front of my Dad. Dad was standing so he was angled away from me, which is why I couldn't hear him very well. None of them saw me.
"I wonder what this is about," I thought as I stood and listened. Dad was a cop, his lectures were more like an interrogation. For the next minute or so, Sam answered "Yes, sir" or "No, sir" several times. I remained motionless in the kitchen trying to figure out what was going on. I was watching them through one of Mom's plants, so I was pretty sure I was still unnoticed.
Dad stepped back and put his hands on his hips. That's bad. He only does that when he is starting to get frustrated. I still couldn't figure out what my brothers did, but from what I could see, Dad was not a happy man. I was pretty sure his belt was about to come off and they were going to get a whipping. Unless he sent them to upstairs, I was going to have a good view. Dad only sent us upstairs if someone else was in the house that could witness the spanking. But since they didn't know I was there, I still might get to see it.
"So, what you are saying is it wasn't you?" Dad asked.
"Yes, sir", replied Sam.
Dad looked at Sam for about 10 seconds. Then he turned to Nick. "And it wasn't you either?"
"No, sir", answered Nick.
Sir? Nick called Dad "sir"? That's unusual. At that time, only when he's really feeling scared or trapped does he call Dad "sir". I had only ever heard Nicky call one other man "sir" and that was Uncle Doug. Our parents pushed the basic manners on us growing up -- please, thank you, excuse me, etc. You said "yes" when answering, not "yeah" - Mom HATED "yeah". We were corrected if we didn't say "yes, dad" or "yes, mom". But saying "sir" or "ma'am" was never pushed, although Sam will dispute that point. As we got older, I just started answering that way. Nick, however, didn't. Nick had an attitude about saying "sir" to anyone. He'd call Mom "ma'am", but he had a bug up his ass about "sir".
"Nicholas?"
"I swear I didn't do it, sir. I got whupped for that once, never again," Nick answered.
Dad nodded his head. I think he believed Nick. That meant Sam did "it". Or was it something I did? I couldn't remember doing anything lately. I racked my brain, the only thing I was doing that I wasn't supposed to was smoking, but Dad wouldn't be blaming that on them if he found out about that.
"Samuel?"
"I didn't do it, sir."
"So, what you are saying is that Chris did it?"
Oh _s_h_i_t_, I knew I'd get dragged into this. My brothers and I had a pact. We never lied to each other, and when being interrogated by dad, always tell him the truth if one of us wasn't present for the interrogation. Dad had ways of cross-examination that tripped up the best lie and in the end all three of us would end up with our asses roasted. So, spill your guts if you knew anything because what comes around goes around in the end.
"No, I'm not saying that. I don't know if Chris did it or not. I just know that I didn't do it, sir.", answered Sam.
It? What the hell was "it"!!?
"Well, lets find out. Chris, get in here" ordered Dad.
_d_a_m_n_, he did see me. It really sucks having a cop for a father. I walked into the family room. Nick and Sam seemed surprised to see me, I guess they didn't see me.
"So, do you know what is going on?" asked Dad.
"Um...not really. I can tell one of us did something, but I don't know what the something is."
"Ok. Have you touched my duty weapon?"
"No, sir", I answered automatically. Under NO circumstances are we to ever touch his duty weapon. About four or five years ago, we received on hell of a lecture about his duty weapon. You touch it, you get whipped. No plea bargain, no grounding, just a whipping. Right after the lecture, Nick, trying to be cute, went over to his gun and touched it with his finger. Dad turned bright red, grabbed Nick, pulled down his jeans and underwear, threw him over the back of the sofa and was wailing on his ass with his belt in about 3 seconds flat. That was something I never wanted to experience.
"Ok. One of you touched my duty weapon yesterday. But since neither of you will own up to it, all three of you are going to get whupped".
"Yesterday???" I asked puzzled. Then I remembered. Oh _s_h_i_t_, it was me. I guess the look on my face said so because my father stood right in front of me. "Um....I'm sorry, sir. It was me."
"So you just lied to me??" Dad roared in face.
"No, sir! I didn't mean to. I just....forgot.....sir." _d_a_m_n_ it's hard to think straight when someone is in your face. _s_h_i_t_, _s_h_i_t_, _s_h_i_t_, touching Dad's gun and now he thinks I lied about it. My ass is toast.
Dad turned his head to my brothers. "You two are dismissed." To me, "Get you ass in my bedroom NOW!" I practically flew upstairs and into his room. Dad was right behind me the entire way.
Once inside his bedroom, he yelled "Drop those pants and bend over. I'm going to whup you ass till no tomorrow."
I dropped my pant and briefs. He didn't say to, but I knew he meant to whip me bare-assed. I put my hands on the cedar chest and pushed my ass out. I didn't have to wait. CRACK! Oh my God! It felt like part of my ass was whipped off. He was mad and my ass was going to suffer.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
"Owwwwwwww....." That was only five and I started yelling. No taking this like the man I thought I was.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
Ooooohhhh.....Daaaaaaaaaaaaadddddddddd.....plllllleeeeeeeeaaaaaasssssssseeeeeeeeeee I'm soorrrrrrryyyyyyy.... Sir...pleasssse...... Daaddddddddddddddd
While I can normally count the whips, not this time. Dad whipped me hard and fast. It all turned in to a blur and my ass on fire.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
I was in so much pain, my ass feeling like you can fry a dozen eggs on it. I fell to my knees screaming and crying.
"STAND UP!!" Dad ordered.
I tried but I couldn't move. I felt Dad grab me and pull me to my feet. "Don't you _f_u_c_k_ing not listen to me, boy!"
"Daddd... I trrriiiieeeeedddd..... I'm sooooorrrrrryyyy..." I whined........
Dad continued roasting my ass.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
I thought he was going to whip me forever. I honestly had no idea how many times he whipped me. Dad stopped, threw the belt on the bed and pulled me up to face him. "That was twenty-five. If you EVER touch my duty weapon again, it'll be fifty. Understood?"
I tried to answer, but it was all I could do was nod and try to get my crying under control.
"I ASKED YOU A QUESTION" he yelled and he gave me a hard shake.
"Y---yeeesss....Sir..... Un-der-stoood" I stammered.
"Good." He let go of me, I almost fell to the floor. I stood up and tried to keep my fear in check and force my tears back. Dad looked at me hard while I stood there. I wanted to crawl into a hole and die, standing there with my jeans and briefs around my ankles. I knew one small thing would earn me another session. After about a minute, I asked quietly "May I be excused, sir?"
"Yes. Go to your room."
"Yes, sir." Like I wanted to go anywhere else. I bent forward pulled up my briefs. It felt like I was getting scalded with hot water. The jeans were not coming up. I stepped out of them and carried them. As I walked to my bedroom, I thought that he whipped me a lot more then twenty-five times. But, that was not a point I was going to argue.
Once inside my room, I dropped my jeans on the floor and slowly peeled my briefs down so I can see my ass in the mirror. My ass was bright red all over. Dad whips from the top of the ass all the way down to where your legs are. I laid down on my bed and gingerly started rubbing my ass. I knew I was going to feel this one for several days.
About thirty minutes later, Dad came in my room. I slowly stood up and walked over to him. Dad pulled me into a big bear hug. When ever we are in trouble, twenty to thirty minutes after punishment, Mom or Dad will come into our room and hug us. I started crying again as Dad held me and I told him I was sorry I touched his weapon and that it would never happen again.
After I calmed down, I laid on my bed on my side and Dad sat next to me. "Ok, it's over, but why? You knew the rule. Why would you touch my gun?" Dad asked.
"I don't know..... It's just .... You were in such a bad mood yesterday. You jumped down my throat about everything, stuff you normally wouldn't get mad at. So, when Mom asked me to put the shampoo in your bathroom, I saw your gun belt on your dresser and I picked it up. I wasn't thinking," I babbled. "I took your gun out of the holster. I could smell the gun power. I knew you had just cleaned it the night before, so if I could smell gun power, you must have fired the weapon. Then I realized you were home early, you shouldn't have been off duty yet, and I remembered you saying you weren't going to work today. So, I figured you into an incident where you shot someone and were on admin leave for the investigation....."
Dad looked away for a second. "Chris, I was at the range yesterday for re-qualifications. That is why you smelled gun power. I got off early so I could go buy your mom a birthday present. Re-quals took longer than usual, so I didn't have time to clean my weapon like I usually do. I was off today because I had a dentist appointment and felt like taking your mom to lunch."
"Oh."
"And, if I was in an incident where I fired my weapon at work, it would have been confiscated for the duration of the investigation."
After he said this, I realized I already knew it. "Dad, I don't know what to say. I'm .... sorry."
"Under no circumstances are you to touch my duty weapon."
"Yes, sir."
"I am responsible for that weapon and the bullets twenty-four hours a day. That is why you are not to touch it."
"I know. It won't happen again, Dad."
Dad got up to leave. "Dad, can I ask you something?"
"What?"
"Well, why were you in a bad mood then? Cause I wouldn't have touched your weapon if -"
"Are you saying this is my fault?" Dad interrupted.
"No, sir! No...no, sir, I didn't mean that. I know the rule, I broke it, and I got punished. We are clear on that. I just wanted to know why you were in a bad mood, is all. I mean, did I do something?"
Dad sat back down on the bed and we talked for about 45 minutes. He didn't realize he had even been in a bad mood. The good thing about Dad is after I'm punished, the subject is closed and we move on. Our conversation turned to cars and we were talking about the upcoming monster truck rally coming up when we heard my mom downstairs.
"NICHOLAS! I told you ten minutes ago to go talk to your father, now MOVE!"
Dad and I looked at each other. "Hmm.....I wonder if I have to beat another one of my sons today...."
Nicky showed up at my bedroom door a few seconds later. When Dad came to my room, he left the door open. Nick looked a bit uncomfortable. He didn't know if Dad was still punishing me or not.
"We're done here. What's up, kid?" Dad asked.
Relieved, Nick said "Mom wants to know about dinner."
"So, why did you wait ten minutes to ask me that?"
"Huh? Oh, you heard. Well, ten minutes ago, Mom said "I'm about ready to ruin dinner, so go ask you father when he is going to be through with Chris".
"And?" Dad asked confused.
"Mom is making stir-fry."
My mother can not make stir-fry. She tries and it's bad every time. Really, really bad.
"Oh God, Dad. You just whipped me, please don't make me eat that. Haven't I been punished enough?" I asked.
"I knew you were still in Chris' room, so I was hoping you could beat him so more, so dinner would be ruined and we'd have to order pizza," Nicky answered.
"Oh thanks Nicky. I appreciate that. Maybe Dad should beat you for not listening to Mom?" I said.
"If it means I don't have to eat her stir-fry, beat away!"
Dad laughed. "Your mom's stir-fry is horrible. I'll take care of it. How does Chinese take out sound?"