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Dirty
Trick
Chuck yelled from his
look-out post at the head of the alleyway, "Here comes Mr. McPherson!"
I heard feet scurrying away from underneath me. Without my friends
to hold the box steady, I fell with a crash. By the time I recovered,
my friends were gone and Mr. McPherson, the principal, was standing
over me. "I suppose you can explain why you were trying to look
into the girl's locker room," he asked.
Word got around the
school fast. My voyeuristic attempt happened during lunch hour,
and by the time I left school, I was joined by my cousin Beverly
who asked me, "So what did you get?" I assumed by "it," she meant
a punishment.
"Nothing," I said, "I
have a note from McPherson, and he wants mom and dad to write a
letter back telling him what they are going to do about it."
Beverly's eyes grew
wide, "Man, your dad is going to kill you."
I seriously doubted
that my father would commit homicide, but nonetheless I did not
want to meet his wrath. "I know, but what can I do?"
"Maybe Arlene can help."
"How can your sister
help?" I responded.
"She's very good at
copying your mother's handwriting."
"You think she'll do
it?"
"She'll do it. I don't
tell mom about when she has her boyfriend over when nobody's home,
so she owes me."
Arlene cooperated. She
wrote a very convincing letter that not only looked like my mother
wrote it, but also sounded like she wrote it. As she handed it to
me, she said, "Now you owe my little sister one."
Payback came the following
Saturday. I was over Bevely's house, and she had a couple of her
friends over. The three girls were playing school. I had no interest
in playing school with 12-year-olds, but as Beverly put it, "You
owe me one, couz."
Being the only boy in
her class, I was picked on a lot. I took it as much as I could,
and then announced, "I'm not playing this stupid game anymore. I'm
going home. You dumb girls can keep your school."
"Andy, sit down and
shut up!" commanded Beverly, "You're being naughty and must be punished."
"Why should I?" I shouted
back as I was walking towards the door.
"Because I have McPherson's
note. Do you want me to show it to your mom or dad?"
"You wouldn't," I countered.
"I won't if you march
yourself over here right now and pull down your pants like the bad
little boy you are. Marcy, and Ginger, and me are going to give
you a spanking for misbehaving in class."
What could I do? I surrendered
meekly. The girls had me drop my pants and underwear and lay over
their laps. Marcy held my shoulders down, and Ginger grabbed my
feet. Beverly in the middle, was the designated spanker.
I learned a lot at school
that day: I learned that I like little girl hands spanking my butt.
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