Fun with the Runt

**

Little guys can be fun.  My cousin, he's four, is such a sucker.  I
challenged him once to a Kool-Aid drinking contest.  I pretended to
drink but dumped mine in a potted plant.  That kid drank six glasses of
grape Kool-Aid before barfing his guts out.  I was laughing my head off
and then Dad walked in.

I told Dad that I had just been having a little fun with shorty.  He
helped the squirt out of his icky shirt and washed his face, but I had
to clean up the mess!  He said that if I did anything like that again,
he would take my pants down, turn me over his knee and spank some sense
into me.  Then he asked the kid if he'd like to see that.  The kid said
he would surely like to see that.  I'd have liked to die.

I was happy to see dad leave the house and it was just me, Mom and the
runt. Mom ran a bath for the littler puker and I was supposed to watch
him.  So he's splashing around, having a grand ol' time for himself,
and I remembered some candy in my room.  I went and fetched it.  It was
those clusters that have peanuts and chocolate covering.  I sacrificed
one for a laugh, tossed it in the tub and told bath boy that it was
poop.

You never seen a kid freak out like that!  You'd have thought I tossed
a giant piranha in there.  He started screaming bloody murder and
flailing around, howling like a banshee.  I was laughing my lungs out. 
All of  the sudden dad was there.  I didn't know how he got there and
wished he wasn't. He took the candy out of the water and informed the
snot nose what it was.

Then Dad turned to me and he was ticked off.  I tried to run.  I didn't
make it far on the slick floor and he got a hold of me.  He sat on the
toilet and got me trapped over his lap by using his legs like pliers. 
Then trapped my hands and I was looking at the floor.  He pulled down
my pants, and I knew that the rug rat was looking at my bare
about-to-be-beat butt.

Then Dad smacked me, and I mean hard!  It flippin' hurt, stung like
nothing I ever felt before.  He kept spanking me like a madman for
almost ever.  I would rather have a million bees sting me than go
through that.  My butt was on fire.  When I was crying as hard as I
possibly could, he let me up.  I started rubbing my rump, trying to
make the sting go away, jumping around. The brat laughed.  Dad told me
to stop it and pulled my pants back up.

He said I could spend time in the corner before we had a talk about
patience and kindness.  I didn't see how he was an expert on the
subject but didn't say so.