Uncle Kenny

Author: Writer8322@aol.com

When I was thirteen, my parents took off and left me with my Uncle Kenny, my dad’s younger brother. 

Why did my parents take off?  Because they are, were and always will be selfish shits, that’s why. 

I can’t  pretend that this was all really terrible for me, I mean of course it was terrible, but it wasn’t as terrible as it would have been if I had liked my parents.  I didn’t like them, because I didn’t even know them.

My parents had lots of money and so they hired different people to take care of me.  When I was really small there was Ingrid, but I don’t remember her. She eventually stole some jewelry (or so my mother said) and disappeared.

When I started school, I came home to Joshua who was an exchange student from Israel.  Josh was nice and used to play with me.  One day my mother found out what Josh was playing and he disappeared into the same black hole as Ingrid. Don’t ask me what Josh played, I don’t remember that either.

When I was eight, my mother and father found Gladys, and she took care of me until my parents took a powder.  Gladys spoke Spanish and Portuguese and was really cool.  We baked together and ate fajitas together, and she took me to see foreign films.  She was also the only person who talked to me about my parents.   After they disappeared, Gladys told me that they were jetsetters and therefore unequipped to deal with a child.  

“Why did they have me then?” I asked.

“Because they are concerned with appearances,” Gladys responded, and that was the end of the discussion.

It was Gladys who called Uncle Kenny, and he drove to our house in Westchester from Brooklyn.   Uncle Kenny is a pretty young guy with a nice kind of face. He has a moustache and a chin beard; I think you call the whole thing a goatee.  I don’t know why; Uncle Kenny doesn’t look like a goat.  He looks like an Uncle.

Uncle Kenny smiled and patted my head when he got to our house; he doesn’t know diddly about thirteen year old boys.   I asked him, “Uncle Kenny, did I ever see you before.”

“Yeah,” he said, “at your circumcision, remember.”

Uncle Kenny has a cute sense of humor.

“I think your parents didn’t like the rest of the family,” Uncle Kenny said, when he was helping me pack.

“How come?” I asked.

“Because we’re too ethnic.  Your parents didn’t want to be ethnic.”

“Were they W.A.S.P.S.?” I asked.   I heard kids talk about W.A.S.P.S. at school.

“No,” Uncle Kenny said, “they were only W.A.S.P.-wannabees.”

Uncle Kenny couldn’t afford to take Gladys back to Brooklyn with us, so she didn’t stay with me either, but at least I got to tell her goodbye.

“Goodbye, honey,” Gladys said, “don’t write to me, because I hate to write. You can call me at my sister’s house in Queens.  Be a good boy.”  Then Gladys was gone.  She forgot to give me her sister’s telephone number.

“How come we aren’t staying here,” I asked Uncle Kenny as we carried my stuff out to his jeep.

“’Cause it’s too big.   I hate big places.”  He grinned at me and his goatee ‘thing’ bent upwards.  “Besides, you’ll like Brooklyn; there’s more people.”

When I got into his jeep,Uncle Kenny fastened my seat belt like I was ten and gave me a quick hug.  “I’m glad youre coming to live with me, Craig, he said.

How come? I asked.  I really wanted to know.

Uncle Kenny shrugged.  Cause youre my nephew.

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On our way out to Brooklyn I looked at Uncle Kenny and decided that he was okay.  He had the kind of face you could trust.  He didnt look like a rocket scientist, but he looked nice and kind and dependable. 

My dad looked like a rocket scientist, but he also looked like a sneaky piece of shit! My mother looked like what she was, a mean bitch!  I know a kid shouldnt use bad language, especially about his parents, but this is my journal and I can write what I like.  If you dont like it, read something else.

On the way out to Brooklyn, Uncle Kenny told me lots of stuff.  He told me that he worked for a magazine reviewing restaurants, he told me that he was a big comic book fan (I didnt know grown-ups read comics), that he liked books and jazz and he told me that he was a die-hard Yankee fan.   Sometimes, we'll drive up to the Bronx and go to a game.

I dont like baseball, I told Uncle Kenny.

He gaped at me, Thats okay, kid, you can enjoy the hotdogs and popcorn. Besides, if we go together well have a great time!  What do ya like?

I like Nintendo and t.v., I said.

...That all? Uncle Kenny said in surprise.  Any sports....music...books...art?

That stuff sucks, I said coldly.  I hated when people pushed their own crap at me.

Uncle Kenny flinched; I actually saw him do it.  He frowned, and glanced at me for a second, and then brought his attention back to the West Side Highway.

Dont talk like that, Craig, its not nice, he said.  He shook his head, Boy if I had ever talked like that....

My parents talked like that, I offered.  They didnt care how I talked.

Well, I care, Uncle Kenny said, so lets try not to do it.

We were quiet for a while after that.  I was thinking about whether or not I was going to worry about changing the way I talk, and I dont know what Uncle Kenny was thinking about.  At the time, I didnt give much care.

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Uncle Kenny lived on a street that had brownstones on both sides of it.  It was a prettier neighborhood than some of the streets we had driven through to get to it, but it was nowhere near as nice as where I lived.  It definitely wasnt upscale.

Uncle Kenny did something weird when he stopped the car, he reached over and unclipped my seat belt for me. 

I can do it, I said.

Uncle Kenny looked and me and smiled and said, I know.  Then he ruffled my hair and got out of the car.

I smoothed my hair down and got out too.   Uncle Kenny was already lugging my stuff out of the  back of his jeep.  

Were gonna have to make several trips, I think, Uncle Kenny said, looking at all my suitcases and boxes.  I probably shouldnt have taken everything, but...what the hey.

I saw a couple of Spanish guys standing across the street and poked Uncle Kenny.  Why dont you give them a couple of dollars.  I bet theyll carry this stuff.

Uncle Kenny smirked.  I dont think so, Craig, we can hack it.

Uncle Kenny continued pulling things out of the back of the jeep, and I walked across the street to the Spanish guys.   They were pretty young, maybe nineteen or twenty, and they were talking in Spanish and laughing.

Hey, any of you guys want to make a couple of bucks, I said.  I took out my wallet while they stared at me, when suddenly a hand grabbed my shoulder and spun me around.  It was Uncle Kenny.

Hey! he said.   He took my hand firmly in his and grinned at the guys, Sorry, hes  new to Brooklyn, he said to the guys.  My nephew, he said, starting to haul me back across the street.    He half-whispered, Comes from Bronxville.  Uncle Kenny shrugged and walked so fast that I had to skip to keep up. 

Hey, let go, I said, trying to wrench my hand out of his tight grip.  Uncle Kenny didnt pay any attention, but as soon as we were across the street, he bent down so that we were on eye level and put his face right up close to mine.

If you ever do something like that again, I swear Ill...Ill..Ill  spank you!  Those guys arent waiting for a hand out from you!  Why did you do that?

I could feel my face turning red and my temper boiling up.  Who did he think he was saying that to me?  I didnt live on some crummy street in Brooklyn. 

Whats your problem? I said. 

Maybe Im finding out, Uncle Kenny replied.  Never mind, lets get your stuff in off the street.

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It took us five trips to take in all of my belongings, and we were both pretty tired by then.  I had wanted to stop after two trips and tried to suggest, again, that we could ask those guys.....but Uncle Kenny didnt want to hear it or talk about it.  I completely couldnt figure him out.  I thought he looked okay, not a genius as I said, but okay.  And now, he was acting like a total jerk!

Uncle Kennys apartment was a little nothing.  It looked okay, I guess, clean and neat and with a lot of books and CDs, but it was tiny!!   There was a small kitchen and a small dining room, a bigger living room with a low couch, some chairs and a whole wall with a built in unit.  The unit must have been made by Uncle Kenny, because it wasnt professional looking.   But, I guess it served its purpose okay; it held a stereo system and about a million books. 

There was a bathroom that Uncle Kenny thought was really cool, because the bathtub was big and had legs, like a lions paws, but I thought it was kind of plain-looking with just tiled walls, a couple of corny prints on the wall and nothing  else.  Our bathrooms at home had all these decorator features like trees!

Wait!! I give you a bath in that tub, Craig, its the best, Uncle Kenny said.

I didnt answer, but I thought, Right!  Im gonna let you give me a bath!! No time soon, Uncle.

There were two other rooms; a bedroom and a closet -  the closet was my room.  Even Uncle Kenny admitted it was tiny. 

It is kind of small in here; too small for all your stuff, but you can sleep on the couch when you want to - it opens un - that is unless I have friends over and it gets late.

I always stayed up late at home, I said.

Is that right? said Uncle Kenny.  How late? 

I dont know, I said.  No one really made me go to sleep; I didnt even sleep on the same floor as my parents - that is when they were home. 

Uncle Kenny looked said and he rumpled my hair again (I wasnt sure whether I liked it or hated it). 

You dont have to worry about me, Uncle Kenny.  Im very self-sufficient.

Uncle Kenny didnt smile, but he started unloading a box of clothes.   Little kids shouldnt have to be too self-sufficient, he said, thats why god made grown-ups.

Im not a little kid, I said, opening a box that had my Nintendo and Sony Playstation in it.

Uncle Kenny stopped putting clothes in a drawer and gave me a warm, understanding smile that almost made me scream.  I know, kid, he said.

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When we finished unpacking it was pretty late.  Uncle Kenny got what he could in my closet-room and put the rest up in this crawl space that he called a garrett.  You reached it by pulling down a little staircase in the ceiling. Actually, I thought it was the most interesting thing in the brownstone.

Okay, he said, clapping his hands together, why dont you take a bath and Ill start dinner....or maybe Ill just order out Chinese.  You want Chinese or franks n beans?

I wrinkled my nose. 

What are franks and beans?

Uncle Kenny explained.

Could we order Thai instead, Uncle Kenny, Chinese food is okay, but I like Thai a lot better.

Uncle Kenny looked a little surprised, Well, I dont know any Thai place around here, so its either the franks or Chinese.  Call it!

Chinese, I said.Okay, take a bath.  Ill be in in a minute.

I was going to start telling him about the bath, but he turned around and left the room before I could do it.  I heard him dialing in the living room.

At school, one of my teachers once offered to clean and cut my fingernails.  I couldnt believe that the jerk could be so rude.   My parents had more money than she would probably ever see outside of a bank vault, and she was offering to clean my fingernails.  I thought that Uncle Kenny was a little like my teacher, too interested in low class things.

I hurried into the bathroom and ran the water into the bathtub.  Then, while it was running, I turned on the water in the sink and rinsed off my face. Then, I dropped the soap into the bathtub, dried my face and went out of the bathroom to find Uncle Kenny.

He was in the kitchen, sitting on a stepstool writing something in a pad. 

Wha? he said when I came in, you cant be done already.

Yeah, I said, Im done.

Uncle Kenny actually reached out and took me by the neck.  He pulled me up to him and turned my head.

Let go! I said and tried to twist away.

Youre filthy! he said.  You didnt take a bath.

I washed! I said angrily.

You rinsed! he retorted.  Cmon! 

He took me by the hand and started walking very fast to the bathroom.   It reminded me of before, on the street, when he pulled me away from the Spanish guys.  I was surprised at how strong Uncle Kenny was. 

Once we were in the bathroom, Uncle Kenny closed the door, sat on the toilet seat and stood me in front of him.   Without saying anything, he reached up and started unbuttoning my shirt.

I reached for his hands to push them away, but Uncle Kenny glared at me with a really serious look in his eye.

Craig, he said, put your hands down.   You are going to take a bath, and I am going to make sure that you are clean.  I told you before that Im really glad that youre here, and I meant it.  But there are a few rules in this house, and you might as well learn them now as later.

He pulled my shirt off my arms and dropped it on the floor.   Then he reached to my waist and unbuckled my belt.

One, he said, is that I treat you with respect, you treat me with respect and we both treat other people with respect.

Uncle Kenny unbuttoned the waistband of my pants and took hold of my fly.

Two, is that we tell each other the truth.

He unzipped my pants and pulled them down to the my ankles.

Pick up your feet! Uncle Kenny said.   I lifted first my right foor, then my left, and Uncle Kenny worked my pants over my shoes and dropped them on the floor next to my shirt.

Shouldve taken off your shoes first, Uncle Kenny said, grunting a little from bending.  He had a slight stomach, and his face was a  little red.   He untied my sneakers and took them off along with my socks.

Three, is that you act in a responsible way: do your homework, be home when youre supposed  to be, never go anywhere without letting me know, dont do anything that you couldnt tell me about, and do whatever chores you have around the house.

And Four, he said, putt his hands on his knees and looking at me, standing there like a jerk in just my white cotton briefs, is being CLEAN!  Now you take your underpants off and get in that tub!

I was breathing hard and trying to think fast.   I couldnt let Uncle Kenny think that he was going to start off our relationship by bossing me around. At the same time, I didnt think that my best bet was a direct confrontation. Uncle Kenny  looked very serious about this bath business.

Uncle Kenny, I said, if you just let me do it myself, Ill wash, honest.

For a minute, Uncle Kennys face softened, but then he looked at me closely and - I think - didnt like what he saw.

Sorry, he said., you already had a chance to do it yourself.  Now  take off those pants and get in the tub, Craig.

I put my hands on my waist and confronted Uncle Kenny.   Im not taking off my underpants in front of you or anyone!  Now why dont you just take a walk!

Yow!  The next thing I knew, Uncle Kenny had grabbed my left arm with his left hand and turned me around so that my backside was lined up with his right hand.    Then, before I could even gather my brains together to put up a fight, he hauled off and gave me about a half dozen swats on my backside with his hand.  It hurt!

Each swat made me swing forward, but not forward enough to escape the next swat, because Uncle Kenny kept ahold of me.   No one had ever hit me before in my life, much less spanked my butt!   I dont know what Uncle Kenny did to make his hand so hard, but it sure gave one helluva wallop. 

The first smack was more jolting than painful, but the second smack was definitely painful!  It traveled up my back  and down my legs.  The third and fourth swat each landed on different sides of my butt and all of a sudden it felt as if my rear end had caught on fire.  By the fifth swat, I found my voice and hollered, and by the sixth swat I was dancing in Uncle Kennys grip of steel.

While I did my little dance and tried to rub my smarting butt, Uncle Kenny took hold of my underpants and yanked them down.  Then he picked me up under my arms and plunked me into the tub.

Uncle Kenny knelt downby the side of the tub and rolled up his sleeves. Heplunged his hand into the bath water and retrieved the bar of soap I had put into it as a subterfuge.  Then he took up a washcloth, wet it and soaped it up. 

Maybe Uncle Kenny had babysat for some kids or something, because he gave me a bath like someone whos had a lot of experience giving a kid a bath.   In a very businesslike way he took one arm and then the other, and soaped it up and then put it back into the water.  He wasnt exactly rought about it, but he was vigorous if you know what I mean.  I mean he really rubbed hard as if I had several layers of dirt.   Tobe honest, I might have, since I dont know when was the last time I had actually soaped myself up.

Uncle Kenny kept resoaping the washcloth and scrubbed by chest and back.  Then he took hold of my arm and said, Stand up!

I glared at him and he glared back.  Stand up, Craig and dont make me tell you again! 

With my rear end still feeling like it belonged to someone else (or ought to), I decided to just do it.  So I stood up and Uncle Kenny got on with his scrubbing.    He washed my legs and then reached around back and soaped my backside.  I pulled forward when that washcloth started rubbing the soreness, but Uncle Kenny wasnt having any of that.  He jerked me back and scrubbed away until he was satisfied.  He even dug into my crack with the cloth to make sure that was clean too.

Then he handed me the cloth and said, Wash your privates, Craig!

I took the washcloth and looked at Uncle Kenny.  I felt the stinging on my backside and all at once I got angry again.  I wapped him right across the face with the cloth sending his glasses flying.

Uncle Kenny looked shocked and almost fell over backwards.  He groped for his glasses, found them and put them back on his face.  I could see a red swipe on his cheek where I had landed the washcloth.

Uncle Kenny turned to me.   What the fuck is the matter with you, kid? he swore.

Youre not my boss! I yelled.

Boss?! Uncle Kenny said.   What are you talking about, Craig.  Im not trying to be your boss.   Im just trying to be your Uncle, and you better believe that this Uncle isnt taking crap from a spoiled little rich kid! Cmere you!

I guess Uncle Kenny didnt really mean for me to come here, because he sort of came to me.   By that I mean that he grabbed both my arms and hauled me out of the tub dripping wet.   Then he took my hand (again!!) and dragged me (this time struggling and resisting) out of the bathroom and into his bedroom. 

As he whisked me across the room, the bed being Uncle Kennys goal, he grabbed something off his bureau.   Then he was sitting on the bed and something happened to me that had never happened before.   I felt Uncle Kenny lifting me up off the ground and suddenly I was lying across his knees in a position I had only heard about. 

It was really scary to suddenly be off the ground lying over a mans lap with my legs kicking in the air and my arms dangling over his leg.   Of course, I tried to get up, but Uncle Kenny was holding me down with his arm across my back.  I tried to roll off his lap, but his left hand was curled around my ribs and he only tucked me in closer  to him when I tried that.

This is your grandpa Edgars hairbrush, Uncle Kenny said, from somewhere way up high, and many were the times that your father and I got a good brushing.  When I knew you were coming to live with me, I figured that youd meet up with Edgars hairbrush sooner or later, but I didnt think it would be this soon!!   But I guess you might as well know how things are.   You behave yourself and well have a great time, but you misbehave, or act like a brat, and Ill spank your fanny until it looks like a sunset over Brooklyn Heights.

That said, my Uncle Kenny gave me my very first over-the-knee spanking. 

Have you ever been spanked with a hairbursh?   If you havent let me tell you this....you dont want to be!  The first couple of swats sting, but thats nothing.   Youre really in trouble when that hairbrush, and its hard wooden paddle, start landing in the same sore places over and over again.

I wish I could say that I was tough and didnt let Uncle Kenny know how much it hurt, but that would be a major crock.   The truth is that after only a few whacks I started yelling and kicking, and after a few more I started pleading, and after a few more I started bawling.  

When he was finished....not when I was finished....when Uncle Kenny had decided, by some private standard, that he had satisfactorily completed my spanking, he picked me up and stood me in front of him.

It was then that I discovered that I had dancing talent!!  I grabbed my burning butt in both hands and high stepped like an Irish dancer right in front of Uncle Kenny.   All the time I was dancing,I kept right on crying with my mouth wide open like a manhole cover. 

Im not going to tell you all the things I said to Uncle Kenny while I was getting spanked, because its too embarrassing.   You probably can imagine quite a few of them anyway.   Ill just tell you one thing.  When a man is spanking you and youre crying, I dont care if that man is your father, grandpa, uncle or cousin, sooner or later - when youre begging him to stop - you call him daddy. 

Now, standing in front of Uncle Kenny, doing my fancy dance, I couldnt forget that Id called him daddy.  Sitting there, still grim faced with that hairbrush in his fist, he sure did look like a daddy to me. 

He waited until my dance was done and then he held my arms while I held my raging behind.

Now, he said, were going to go back to the bathroom and finish your bath. Then Ill get you some fresh clothes to put on and well have dinner.

This time Uncle Kenny didnt take my hand, he just lead me out of the room. As he passed his bureau he put grandpa Edgars hairbrush back on top.  I saw it sitting there and knew that a hairbrush would never have the same meaning to me again.

I followed Uncle Kenny into the bathroom and then, without being told, I climbed (sniffling) back into the tub.   The water had gotten colder by this time, but I didnt complain. 

Uncle Kenny took up the washcloth and soap and washed my privates himself. Then he washed my  face, with special attention to my ears (ouch!), and shampooed my hair.

When that was done, Uncle Kenny lifted me out of the tub and dried me with an enormous terrycloth towel.  Then he looked at me and said, You look wonderful.  Pink and clean and shiny.  Uncle Kenny grinned and hugged me against his chest.

I wanted to pull away from him.   What did he think....that I was going to be affectionate after he had blistered my butt, but I didnt.  Why didnt I? Why? Why?  Why

Come back for part 2....maybe Ill tell you.