|
|
|
Sailfish
 
Group: Forum Members
Last Login: Today @ 3:30:43 PM
Posts: 1,718,
Visits: 3,536
|
|
| My oldest son and I were on the way to AutoZone this morning and talking about my parents and how great they are, and he told me that as great a man as my father is, he bet he was a very strick father. Yep he was. When a was a little boy, my oldest sister locked me out of the house, and she was standing inside the screen door making fun of me for not being able to get back inside. I got really mad, and went looking for something to get in with, and found a can of silver spray paint. I took it back to the back door and threatened to spray her through the screen door, she didn't believe me, well I proved her wrong and sprayed right in the face through the screen door. Then proceeded to paint part of the house, a streak about 3' from the ground and as wide as a spray can will make down the backside of the house. My mom beat the crap out of me, but when my father got home, it was bad. I am a better person because of my daddy and I am glad I had the good fortune to have him as a daddy, he is the single greatest person I have ever known. I am glad he raised me as he did. What did you do to get the worst spankin you ever got?
*****************************************************"Just trying to make it"
|
|
|
|
|
White Marlin
Group: Forum Members
Last Login: Today @ 12:54:49 PM
Posts: 3,822,
Visits: 16,594
|
|
Curtis...now that is not only funny, but close to home. My brother did the same to me, except I came right through the door and beat his ass. Needless to say what happened to me when Mom...not Dad got home. She was the ass whipper. Then there was another time when we got into a scuffle and I ran for the house. He had a 1 foot square piece of plywood he was going to sling at me. Just as I got to the door I ducked and that piece of plywood came flying, hit the solid (inserts) door and stuck in about head high. He pleaded with me to fix the door before Mom got home, which I tried to do. Can you imagine what the patch looked like...outside looked good but the inside. That was in 1961 and I was 15 yo. Actually as I was growing up I could count the spankings I got on one hand. But I was hell as a as a child from birth till about 3 or 4.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>I'm a Sagittarius...If you don't want to hear the truth then don't ask my opinion!
Then again I'm a "Vacuous Asshat"  Political Correctness:
A doctrine fostered by a delusional, illogical liberal minority, and rapidly promoted by an unscrupulous mainstream media, which holds forth the proposition that it is entirely possible to pick up a turd by the clean end. Century 25' Mirada 350/260HP "ISLAND LADY" >>>> Calera, Alabama My Pictures
|
|
|
|
|
Sailfish
Group: Forum Members
Last Login: 2 days ago @ 10:20:42 AM
Posts: 1,213,
Visits: 3,929
|
|
probally worst was drinking half the vodka and refilling it with water
 
|
|
|
|
|
Trigger
Group: Forum Members
Last Login: Today @ 12:13:53 PM
Posts: 100,
Visits: 906
|
|
| i was fourteen. we had a new chow puppy. it was a saturday afternoon and my dad was taking his usual nap in the living room. he did not have on any shoes. i took the puppy over to where his (dads) feet were hanging off the edge of the couch. i placed the pups 15 week old needle like teeth over my dads big toe and squeezed down on the pups mouth. i never saw the punch coming. all i remember was my dad screaming in pain and the next thing i knew i was upside down under the dining room table wonder how in the hell i got there. that was beating number one, here is number two. i was practicing with my sand wedge in the back yard. in the summer time when we cut grass on saturday morning, the grass that grew over the septic tank and filed lines was nice, short and thick. just like the grass at the driving range. i would hit off the short stuff toward the fence in the back. ( we had a large and long fenced in yard ) after hitting a few towards the back i would then use the nice newly cut septic tank grass as my green landing pad. my dad was just beyond the grass washing out the dogs water bowl. i thought it would be funny to see just how close i could get the golf ball to land at my dads feet. i lined up the shot and let her rip. it was a perfect sand wedge shot with the ball in a beautiful arch heading towards the green. at this time my dad bent over to turn off the garden hose. the ball struck the green and then took a wicked bounce. while pop was bending over the ball bounced one time and went between his legs and struck him in the back of the sack. i heard a loud moan and watched my dad go to his knees and start puking his guts out. it took him an hour to get back on his feet and another hour to make it in the house. the rest is history.
|
|
|
|
|
Trigger
Group: Forum Members
Last Login: Yesterday @ 4:51:58 PM
Posts: 133,
Visits: 1,195
|
|
| Well, I've had many along the way and can't remember one I didn't earn. I appreciate my dad and my mom because neither was afraid to discipline. We were never abused, and the punishment always fit the offense. Probably worse than the whippings(switchings actually) were the talks. To realize you have betrayed your parents trust and caused them hurt or shame is far worse than any whipping that is over in a second. So, my worst spanking both in terms of the duration and how I felt about what I did was when I was in the sixth grade. I had just gotten a new pair of glasses and was in the kitchen pouring a glass of kool-aid. The glasses messed up my depth perception so when I started to pour the kool-aid hit the edge of the cup and over it went making a mess all over the counter after my mother had just cleaned the kitchen. She yelled at me from a recliner that I could see in the livingroom to clean my mess up. I fully intended to clean up and it made me mad that she yelled at me to clean up my mess. As soon as I walked out of the kitchen and down the hall with a wall blocking her view I shot her the finger(big man I was!). Unfortunately, my dad was at the other end of the hall!!! He yelled my name and my legs nearly buckled. I said we normally got switched, but this time he told me to go upstairs and get one of his belts and bring it to him. He told me it better be a good one or if I made him pick one it would be worse(this was the same deal with the switches too. Pick you own, strip the leaves off and it better be a good one!). I brought the belt back downstairs after a long.....long.... selection process(not trying to get it right, just buying some time). I handed him the belt and he made me apologize to my mom(it hurt me far worse to know the lady who loved me and cared for me knew I shot her the bird than all the rest of the punishment). Then he turned me around heading back toward the stairs. He cracked me on my butt on every one of those stairs and lectured me about how disrespectful I was to my mother and I better not ever get caught doing anything like that again. I think I was on restriction for a week or so too. To this day I still feel bad I did that. She probably doesn't even remember it. Even though she doesn't read this, SORRY MOM!!!! Jeff
|
|
|
|
|
|
| | |