The following story is fiction about parental type strappings. If this subject is offensive, uninteresting or if you are a minor (i.e., child) please leave now.
The reference to Mudville and Casey is well-known in the US and is explained at Casey at the Bat by Ernest Thayer.
This work is copyright by the author and commercial use is prohibited without permission. Personal/private copies are permitted only if complete including the copyright notice.
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Click to have Metric units (American/English units) used in the story.
Red was in the dumps. It was a beautiful day for running but all he had managed was fifteen minutes before he turned off the path to get to the old railroad trestle and sit on the steel beam of its base. He was depressed and worried. Both his mind and heart were heavy. If boys were allowed to cry (other than in the privacy of their room after a hard strapping) he would have been sobbing.
* * * * * * * * * *
Everything was so great when he got up that morning. He did not have any homework nor chores to tend to. He had breakfast and joyfully trotted down the block to his best buddy Ike. It was there that the sinkhole had opened up and consumed his joy.
Ike and Red had been in Ike's room getting ready for a long run when the collapse happened. They had only been vaguely aware of the telephone ringing but then there was a loud and demanding rapping on the door. Even without opening it, they knew that it was Ike's father and that he was furious. Surely he was as mad as a wet hen. In thirty seconds they knew he was even madder.
The story soon unfolded in most terrible detail. The sheriff's office had called with a very disturbing report. Yesterday, the two youths had been down at the old quarry with several others. As the patrol car approached, the guys scattered and only a couple of them had been caught. They immediately thought that one of their buddies had squealed but that, they were quickly assured, was not the case. One of the deputies had recognized them.© YLeeCoyote
Ike's dad was more than furious. Usually he afforded Ike privacy when he was on the carpet but this was very serious and Red had been forced to listen to the long, boring and repetitious lecture about the dangers of the quarry and reminders of previous lectures and promises not kept in regard to staying away from the quarry. The two youths could have felt more cheerful the mist of a hurricane with its real dangers.
After a seeming eternity, the lecture petered out and it was time for the sentence. There was the lost of freedom and the requirement to write an essay. Red tried again to leave at this time, but was not permitted to do so for he was required to witness the strapping of his buddy as well.
Under orders, Ike stripped completely. He felt somewhat embarrassed even though Red and he had been naked together many times. This was, somehow, different. Once naked, Ike was required to lie over the end of his bed kneeling on the floor. This put his butt in position for the strap. The strap was actually Ike's grandpa's old razor strop which his father had felt when he was a lad. A full two inches (five cm) wide strip of well-oiled, supple leather almost a quarter inch (six mm) thick and two feet (sixty-one cm) long. The first cut was just a preamble of the others.
Ike's dad made sure he was in the proper spot before raising and bring down that heavy strop on his son's butt. It landed with an awesome WHACK and as it fell away Red saw the red stripe forming across his buddy's ass. Ike's scream filled the room and chilled Red to his very core so that his blood ran cold.
Each WHACK of the dreadful strop had the same effect. Over and over Ike's dad raised the awesome tool and brought it down hard on his son's posterior. Ike was sobbing after three blows, crying by five and bawling at the end. When the course of eight was complete, Ike was indistinguishable from a toddler having been spanked by his nanny. His ass was red, hot, swollen and extremely well-roasted.
Red was dismissed with a curt comment that he could expect his due when his father came home in the evening. Ike was confined to his room.
* * * * * * * * * *
Red left Ike's house in a daze. The lecture and strapping had really affected him deeply. As bad as he felt, he knew that Ike was affected a lot worse and certainly in real pain yet he could not do anything to comfort him. He had not been permitted even a parting word. He took a few steps back to his own house and then suddenly he turned and ran. This was the way he would have been going with Ike if they had gotten started before that horrid phone call. He ran bit, like a deer spooked by a wolf, and then stopped when something inside of him gave out. He saw the old trestle and headed for it. It was off the path and he had to climb the bank to get to it. He practically collapsed rather than just sitting down on the beam. It was very private here – the path (actually an old road) had little traffic and the railroad even less. Additionally, there were some bushes that blocked the view from the path to this end of the trestle. It was an ideal place for a boy to be alone.
Red's head was spinning from the earlier events. Over and over Ike's screams reverberated through his head along with the WHACK of the strop on his bared tail. It was worse than the real event because there was not any limit to the remembered WHACKS and yells. The harsh words of his buddy's father were reverberating in his head. The sympathetic pain was real and Red was hurting. His pain was extreme and he was sobbing. Yet, his most rational core knew that the worst was yet to come. He still had to face his own father. That was a very long six hours away.
There was much time to reflect on what surely would happen when his father came home. «You are a great disappointment.» «You are grounded.» «You broke your promises.» And, of course, the strap which would make his ass just as red and swollen and hot and painful and roasted as the strop had done to Ike's butt. It was not nice to contemplate in the least.
* * * * * * * * * *
Red sat on the trestle for hours. The glorious day for running and playing had been ruined. There was less joy here than in Mudville after Casey had struck out. And the immediate forecast was for conditions to deteriorate further. Red knew that he had to go home and be there when the executioner, er, his father got home. Things would be worse if he wasn't there on time. Slowly, very slowly Red walked home to his doom.
He retreated to his room and lay on his bed. He knew his father would be as angry as Ike's dad had been. He knew that he deserved the same as his buddy had gotten for exactly the same reasons. There was nothing he could do about that now. That stupid witticism – if you can't do the time / then don't do the crime – popped up in his head. It made him think a little differently. Red was sure of one thing – there was not any way for him to get out of this. He must face his angry father like a man rather than a little boy who wanted to hide behind his mommy's skirts. The question was how.
After a while, he wrote a note and placed it on the hall table next to the mail which his father always checked when he came in.
I have been disobedient by going to the quarry yesterday. I'm sorry. I'm
waiting in my room for my well-deserved punishment.
It was an hour before his father returned and another half hour before he knocked on Red's door. Red's dad was pleased at this turn of events although that didn't placate him about the misdeeds. At least he wasn't like the typhoon that Ike's dad had resembled. They reviewed the event and Red renewed promises. Then came a hard question that surprised Red.
"What sort of punishment do you think you deserve, son?"
"I don't know, dad."
"Well, would an hour in the corner be reasonable?"
"No, Sir." Red would have been satisfied with that but he knew his father wouldn't be by any stretch of the imagination. "Totally grounded for a year, perhaps?"
"Dad, you aren't being serious?" Red could recognize the other extreme as well.
"What would you suggest, son?"
"Like you got at ten, son, with your shorts down, bare bottomed and then some corner time?"
Red could see that his father was giving him a chance although what kind was not clear. One thing was certain he had to suggest something proportional to the misdeed. He knew, fortunately to prevent further angering his dad, that it would have to be proportionate to the offence and to be something he would not like. Naturally, it had to be because it was punishment.
"Something like Ike got this morning, dad?"
That's sounds more like it, Red. What did Ike get? Oh, and how do you know?"
"I was there, father, because Ike's dad wouldn't let me go. We got a very long lecture."
"We?" interrupted his father.
"Yes, it affected me just like it did Ike. I winced at all the terrible words just as he did. I don't think I could take another lecture like that again today. Then he got strapped with his grandfather's razor strap which roasted his ass deeply. And some grounding and to write an essay. I felt his pain, dad, really I did. I couldn't go running but just sat on the old trestle for hours with my head spinning."
"You think it was fair? Reasonable?"
"Call Ike. Tell him that I would like to borrow the strop and with his dad's permission to bring it here after dinner."
Red made the call and after explaining his mission made the double request. It was only a couple of minutes that Ike had permission to bring the fearsome strop.
Right on time, Ike rang Red's doorbell and was invited in. He joined Red in his bedroom. Red asked how he was and expressed his regrets for not being any help in the morning especially not being able to offer comfort. Ike allowed Red to examine this butt to see the extent of the damage. It was truly fearsome – being dark red and swollen and quite sensitive.
Then it was time for the stropping. Ike reminded Red to be brave and take it like a man. Red's father took the strop from Ike and ordered his son to get into position. Red stripped and knelt at the foot of his bed as Ike had in the morning. The strop had the same effect on Red that it had on Ike just a few hours before. After a few hard WHACKS, Red was turned into a bawling little boy with a hot, red, swollen and seared bottom.
"That's it. Get up, Red." ordered his father. "Do you think that you learnt a lesson today?"
"Yes, Father." Red said through his tears. "Good. Ike you may stay for a half hour and then take the strop back to your father."
"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir." Ike comforted him as he would have liked to be comforted this morning. "You will survive, Red. I survived and so will you. Just like my dad and uncles did after Gramps used it on them." He paused. "Really you will."
Then came the call from downstairs. "Ike, time to go."
Ike gave his buddy one more hug and whispered. "We can go back to the quarry next week to leave our marks." and gave Red a slap on the butt.
Red watched his buddy leave. Of course, he was serious about a return visit as the challenge was still open. Hell, stroppings are just part of growing up for a real boy.
© Copyright A.I.L. August 20, 2010
The URL for this page is: https://yleecoyote.asslr.org/StropQuarry.html
Last updated: September 15, 2023