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The Strap
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The Strap |
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Gene Senior Member
since 2000-01-23
Posts 935Colorado, USA |
This story is 100% true. I actually did this when I was a kid. A cat-o-nine-tails fashioned out of patent leather hung on the back of the kitchen pantry door. More as a psychological deterrent than anything else, my father had never used it on me, but came very close. When I was twelve years old, my curiosity in pyrotechnics began and ended just as quickly as a bang. I had discovered a wonderful little explosive device called a "load." About a quarter inch in size, resembling a tiny toothpick, it was designed to be placed inside of a cigar or similar, to create a most startling effect. Exploding cigars—what a great party gag, I thought—just like something I saw on The Three Stooges. The overwhelming urge to play a trick on my Dad, was just too much to contain. I thought I’d surprise him with my newfound joy. He’d surely get a big kick out of this, so I had thought. One day, when he wasn’t around, I took his pack of cigarettes and carefully removed just one. With the precision and care of a surgeon, I delicately inserted a load into the tip of the cigarette, making certain that it was just deep enough that it wouldn’t show, and so it wouldn’t explode until at least the second or third puff. Then I replaced it into the pack—but in the second position, of course—wanting to make sure that this episode would explode with the most natural and unexpected delight. Then, I placed the pack down on the table, exactly as he had left it. When my father returned, I waited and watched from behind, on my vantage point at the top of the kitchen stairs. The anticipated tension was heightening as I waited for him to light that second cigarette. Then, there it was—that fateful "coffin nail" emerged. As he lit the cigarette, I wondered, when will it explode—did I time it just right? And, at that moment, BANG! It couldn’t have been more perfect; precisely on the third puff. Pieces of paper and tobacco flew through the air, and the tip of his nose was blackened by the smoke. Boy, was he startled. It took him about five seconds to realize what had happened. I was just about to run downstairs, to join my father in a moment of hilarious frivolity, when I noticed something amiss. To my astonishment, he didn’t find it funny at all. Then, it dawned on me that I could have killed him. He stood up out of his chair, turned towards me, yelling and cursing as he ran up the stairs. Well, I took off "like a bat out of hell," running up two fights of stairs, into the bathroom and locked the door. "Come out of there," he screamed and yelled as he violently pounded his fists on the door. "Come out of there, if you know what’s good." Well, I didn’t think coming out would indeed do me much good, so I held my ground, but too shaken to utter a word—thinking he must be insane if he thinks I’m coming out now. Then, as quickly as the intensity began, it ended with a sudden silence; a silence all too quiet to be good. Dare I open the door just a crack, for fear that it might swing back on me with all the force of my father’s raging fury? And then, as if to unnerve me with all the tension of a psychological thriller, there began a light tapping, scratching, scraping sound, against the door. With one hand on the knob to prevent its being turned, and my ear, anxiously pressed to the door, I listened in puzzlement, trying to discern this mysterious noise. What could it be? What dare I do now? Wait a minute, I’ve heard that sound before. It’s the sound of nine cat tails of leather flicking against the door. Oh, no, not the strap! Well, I definitely wasn’t coming out now, I hadn’t a doubt! So, I decided I’d wait until things calmed down. I took a look around and thought, hmm, I could be quite comfortable if I had to spend the duration here. I could always sleep in the tub and I certainly had a place to relieve myself, but what would I do when my stomach would start to rumble from hunger? I knew I had to eventually come out. So, when it seemed that all had quieted down, I took a deep breath and built up all the courage I could muster. Hesitantly, I slowly opened the door. To my amazement, my father had gone without a trace; not even a sound. I looked cautiously around each corner, thinking that he'd lay waiting in ambush, but he had indeed disappeared. Did he go to get reinforcements—more ammunition, I had thought? But when I walked downstairs, I saw him sitting back down in his chair, as if nothing had happened. I watched him reach for his cigarettes, then crumple the pack and toss it into the ashtray, and without turning around, he simply said, "don’t ever do that again." From that day since, he never again smoked a single cigarette. It did my heart good to know, that in my own strange, but thoughtless way, I did my father a favor, and he knew it too. ______ ~Gene [This message has been edited by u_gene (edited 04-07-2000).] |
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| © Copyright 2000 Gene M. - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Munda Member Elite
since 1999-10-08
Posts 3544The Hague, The Netherlands |
What a great story Gene. I could picture you behind that bathroom door, all scared and trembling. Please continue to write. I'd love to see more of you.  |
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Dusk Treader
Moderator
Senior Member
since 1999-06-18
Posts 1187St. Paul, MN |
Woo.. now that's a tale you have there... I can just imagine how angry your father was.. woo boy... You're lucky. It's good you both learned something from it, and it's especially good your dad quit smoking.. though I don't think your method would catch on... Great tale Oh, and btw, this is a perfect example of prose. Prose is quite a bit different from poetry. Poetry has more form to it, the verses, rhyme and meter, you know. Abrahm Simons "...Watching fate as it flows down the path we have chose" - Trent Reznor, "We're in this Together" |
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JOY 14 Senior Member
since 1999-09-22
Posts 1419Wisconsin USA |
Gene, you held my attention all through this piece. What a story this was! For a minute I thought he might have died from that. Thank goodness he didn't. Whew. Joy |
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Irish Rose Member Patricius
since 2000-04-06
Posts 10263 |
what a great read! I enjoyed it so much Kathleen |
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Gene Senior Member
since 2000-01-23
Posts 935Colorado, USA |
Thanks,Everyone. I'm glad you enjoyed this. It was fun writing it. It brought back a lot of memories. This was my first attempt at prose, so I really appreciate your nice comments. I'd also appreciate any suggestions on what I could do to improve my writing. When I was a kid, I always had trouble writing compositions for school. My father would say, "use a lot of adverbs and adjectives." I guess he meant, be descriptive. I'm afraid of over-doing it though. I don't want things to sound phoney. So, I could use all the help I can get. Thanks, Gene |
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ESP Member Elite
since 2000-01-25
Posts 2556Floating gently on a cloud.... |
lol....Gene you naughty little boy you!! This is a great story! I am no expert on prose...more like a raw beginner actually...so I will leave the critiques and suggestions to the more experienced who hang out in this forum! Love and hugs, Lizzie  "Poetry is the true expression of my soul, it is my ultimate means of communication. It is a rainbow of delight." |
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kaile
since 2000-02-06
Posts 5146singapore |
you had your strap,i had my cane...when i did something naughty when i was young, my mum would chase me around the house,threatening to give me a good hard spank when she caught me....i would always hide under the bed,cowering like a mouse,praying hard that she would simmer and give up on her search..... great story of yours,it certainly brought back some mistimed adventures of my own ") |
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Christopher
Moderator
Member Rara Avis
since 1999-08-02
Posts 8296Purgatorial Incarceration |
Whoa! Eeek! Wonderful turn about though! (Glad my dad used a belt!) |
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