unclemattp2

Uncle Mathew P2

“ Unruly Behavior & Its Consequences”

Uncle Matthew sat in a chair in his bedroom and held his nephew Russell
between his knees. The boy fidgeted as his Uncle meticulously arranged a bow
tie under the boy’s stiff collar.

Russell reached up to try and pull the collar a little looser and his Uncle
snorted impatiently.

“Russell, put down your hands,” he said. “I’ve almost got your bow tie done
and I don’t want you to make it crooked. There.”

Uncle Matthew held the eight year old at arm’s length and surveyed him. They
were having company, and Uncle Matthew had insisted that Russell be dressed
for the occasion.    The boy had on a starched white shirt with short puffy
sleeves that gathered mid-arm. He wore very short pants, German-design, that
fitted his round little bottom snugly and buttoned in the front.

Wool stockings came up to his calves, and his wore brown leather shoes that
had been highly polished.

“Now, let’s see if I can get your most unruly hair into line,” Uncle Matthew
said.   He went to his bureau and took down two hairbrushes and a jar of hair
cream.

“I can do it, Uncle Matthew,” Russell said. “I’ll stand on the bathroom chair
and do it, carefully, in the mirror.”

“No, you will not, Russell,” Uncle Matthew said.   “Your Auntie Clarice is
coming with Peter (Russell groaned inwardly), and so are Uncle James’ and my
good friends Mr. Davis and Reverend Hawkins. I do not choose for them to see
my little boy looking like a jackdaw’s nest.”

Uncle Matthew unscrewed the lid of the hair pomade jar and scooped out some of
the gel. Russell wrinkled his nose and scratched at his wool-covered legs
while Uncle Matthew rubbed the pomade between his palms.

“Come closer, Russell,” Uncle Matthew ordered, and Russell stepped right
between his Uncle’s knees.   Uncle Matthew began anointing Russell’s head,
working the pomade into his hair. Then he picked up the two hairbrushes and
began to briskly brush Russell’s hair back. When it was plastered down, Uncle
Matthew parted it and brushed it into place. Russell’s hair was shiny and
sleek from the pomade.   Uncle Matthew beamed.

“There now,” he said happily, “you look quite presentable.   Now you may go on
the porch and wait for our guests, but, “ he added warningly, “don’t you dare
to mess yourself up.”

“Okay, Uncle Matthew,” Russell said, and he ran out of the room and
downstairs.

Uncle James was setting the dining room table, but he stopped when Russell
appeared.

“Well, you look very spiffy,” he said, grinning, “did Uncle Matthew brush your
hair?”

Russell nodded.

Uncle James walked over and looked at the boy. “Very neat,” he said, but
Russell could tell that Uncle James was secretly thinking, “Too neat.”
However, Uncle James did not interfere with Uncle Matthew’s rearing of his
nephew. Uncle Matthew picked out Russell’s clothes and most of his toys and
books.   Uncle James, periodically, tried to leaven things with some toys of
his own choosing.

“Uncle James,” Russell said, stepping closer to James and lowering his voice.
“Can I tell you a secret.”

Uncle James bent down and gave the little boy his ear.

Russell cupped his soft lips and whispered to the man, “I don’t like Auntie
Clarice and I hate Peter.”

James laughed uproariously and Russell looked about with some trepidation.
He didn’t want Uncle Matthew to hear this.

Uncle James say the boy’s reaction and patted his head, “Don’t worry, Russ,”he
said, “your secret is safe with me. Shall I tell you a secret of my own.”

Russell nodded and now it was his turn to offer an ear. Uncle James whispered
into it. “I’m not crazy about ‘Auntie’ Clarice myself - though she Matthew’s
cousin by marriage - and I can’t stand her son.   I wouldn’t mind getting
Peter alone in the garage for about an hour,” James said.   “I’d love to have
that brat over my knee when I had a barrel stave in my hand.”

Russell giggled and impulsively hugged Uncle James. The man returned the
boy’s embrace and then got up.   “I’d better finish with this table. What are
you going to do?”

“Uncle Matthew said I should go outside and wait for the company.”

“Okay then,” said Uncle James, “you’d better not make a mess of yourself.
Your Uncle Matthew has you picture-perfect for our guests.”

Russell went out on the porch and leaned over the porch railing.   Across the
street he saw two boys that he knew from school playing in the yard. They
were throwing a large red ball around and were so engrossed in their play,
that they didn’t even notice him.

Russell would have loved to call out to them, or simply go across and play,
but he didn’t think that Uncle Matthew would approve. On more than one
occasion, his Uncle had lectured him on his idea of propriety and it didn’t
include ‘rough-housing with the street boys’, as Uncle Matthew put it.

Well, Russell would have someone to play with shortly, even if the person
wasn’t the friend of his dreams. As if his thoughts had the power of
summoning, a car pulled up at the end of the front yard and Russell saw that
Clarice Campbell and her son Peter had arrived.

Very politely, Russell walked down the path to greet them. Clarice was a sad-
looking woman who never seemed to be able to organize herself. She bumped her
head getting out of the car and then fumbled inside to get an aluminum foil
covered dish that she had brought and hit her head a second time.

Her son, Peter, who had gotten out on the other side bellowed with laughter
when his mother grabbed her head.

“God, ma,” Peter laughed, “you’re so klutzy!”

“Peter, that’s not nice,” Clarice moaned, “and help me with these parcel.”

Peter was ten years old, red-headed and covered with freckles.   He was a
large boy by all standards, tall and bulky. He ate prodigiously and, although
he ran around a lot for a boy his size, everything he ate ‘stuck on.’

Peter hauled a shopping bag out of the back seat and then turned to Russell.

“Hi,” Russell said. “Hello, Auntie Clarice.”

Clarice came around and gave Russell a fussy-sort of kiss.

“He-llo darling,” she said.   She always talked to Russell as if his parents
funeral had happened five minutes ago.

Clarice put her hand on Russell’s face and tutted sympathetically. Then she
headed up the path, calling over her shoulder, “Please bring that shopping bag
into the house and then you and Russell can play.” She stopped and looked
back at both boys for a moment as if attempting to assess the situation.   She
looked at Russell’s small, slight eight year old form and at her robust son.
A worried look passed over her face, but all she said was, “Russell is all
dressed up, Peter.   Please play nicely.”

Peter smirked and headed up the bath with the bag.   He fraternally threw his
large freckled arm around Russell’s shoulder and pulled him along.

“Hey, Russell, whatya down’?”   Then he leaned over and whispered in Russell’s
ear, “And how are they hangin’?” Russell looked at Peter who roared at his
own joke. Then Russell was pulled along by Peter’s arm.

In the house, Uncle Matthew was kissing Clarice and Uncle James was coming up
to get the shopping bag.

“Well, Peter, you’re certainly becoming a big boy,” Uncle Matthew said with a
certain amount of alarm. “How old is he now, Clarice.”

“I’m ten!” Peter answered for himself.

“....And quite assertive,” Uncle Matthew said critically. He looked at
Russell. “Russell, why don’t you and Peter play chess.”

“Yeah, right,” Peter said. “I hate chess. Does Russell have Sony Playstation
yet?”

“No,” Uncle Matthew answered firmly, “and never will. Russell knows that I
don’t approve of that trash,” he turned to his nephew, “don’t you Russell.
And he knows what Uncle Matthew would do if I ever caught him playing with
that garbage.”

Peter stared hard at Uncle Matthew and grinned. Then he once again put his
arm around Russell’s shoulder.   “Come on, Russ,” Peter said companionable,
“let’s go outside and play.”

Russell looked up at Uncle Matthew, who was walking across the living room
toward his pipe rack.

“Uncle Matthew, can I play outside?”

“Yes,” Uncle Matthew said, taking up one of his pipes and beginning to fill it
in his tobacco jar, “but remember what I said about staying neat for company.
I don’t want you to look a mess at least not until Mr. Davis and Reverend
Hawkins arrive.   Perhaps after that, you will be allowed to change.”

“Okay, thanks, Uncle Matthew,” Russell said. He was overjoyed to hear that he
might have a reprieve from a full day of wearing uncomfortable clothing.

“Let’s go in the back yard,” Russell said to Peter, “I have a softball and we
can play catch.”

The boys headed outside and Uncle Matthew lit his pipe. He looked over the
smoking bowl at his cousin Clarice and noted her perpetually haggard look.

“Tell me, Clarice, how are you getting on with Peter?”

“All right,” Clarice said nervously.

“All right indeed,” Matthew said, seating himself and anchoring his pipe in
the corner of his mouth. “That young scamp runs all over you, doesn’t he?”

“He...he is a handful,” Clarice said dismally, she sat down and James handed
her a drink and gave another one to Matthew.    James helped himself to a
drink and joined the little group.

“You must be firm with him, Clarice,” Matthew said, “that boy needs firmness.
Anyone could see that in a moment. Isn’t that right, James.”

“He does look like a boy who needs discipline, Clarice,” James said.

Matthew made a ‘humphing’ sound and blew a smoke ring. “What that boy needs
is a hiding.”

Clarice turned red and Matthew’s mouth turned up at the corners. He took his
pipe out of his mouth and leaned forward to peer right at his cousin.

“A hiding Clarice. On his bare bottom!”

Clarice’s eyes grew large at the image.   Matthew looked satisfied and settled
back with his pipe. His eyes darted at James, who looked away, and then
returned to Clarice.

“Most boys, even some quite grown up boys, need to have their bare bottoms
well spanked when they misbehave. I recommend that you see to that matter as
soon as the situation presents itself.”

“I...I couldn’t,” Clarice said, she was actually fanning herself with a
tissue. “He...he’s too big,” she whispered.

Matthew pulled the pipe from his mouth and leaned forward again, “Of course
he’s not too big!” Matthew was almost shouting. “He certainly isn’t too big
for me. You just say the word, Clarice, when that young hellion acts up or
doesn’t do just what you tell him, I will bring a strap to your house and
impress upon him the need to be a gentleman!”

Clarice fumbled with her hands uncomfortably and sipped at her drink.   James
got up and said, “Let me get some snacks,” and Matthew sat back in his seat
and puffed his pipe.
*   * * *   * *   * * *   * *   * * *   * *   * * *   * *   * * *
* *   * * *   * *   * * *   * *   * * *   *

Outside the two boys started throwing the ball around.   Their feet crunched
continuously in the autumn leaves that had fallen all through the yard from
the large oak tree that grew there.

At first all was well, and then Peter seemed to grow tired of the game. He
threw the ball harder and made Russell run and get it.   He started to
complain about Russell’s catching, although it was he who was throwing too
wildly.

“This sucks!” Peter said. “Besides, you can’t catch.”

“Yes, I can,” Russell said, “you’re not throwing right.”

Peter stalked up to Russell. “Don’t you tell me that I don’t throw right,” he
said, bending down and sticking his freckled nose into Russell’s face.
“You’re just a baby, and baby’s can’t play ball.”

Russell was terrifically insulted, “I’m not a baby, and I throw better than
you do. When I throw to you, you don’t have to run to get it.”

Peter looked up at the house and a sudden thought crossed his mind. “Hey,
Russell,” Peter said.   “What did your Uncle Matthew mean when he said, you
knew what you’d get if he ever caught you playing a video game.”

Russell’s face turned red, “I don’t know,” he mumbled.

Peter threw back his head and gave a single, loud guffaw.   “Like hell you
don’t,” he laughed. He leaned down to Russell and, once again, pushed his
face up close to the younger boy’s. “You’d get your bottom smacked, wouldn’t
you?”

Russell opened his mouth and closed it again.

Peter put his arm around Russell’s shoulder.   “It’s okay, we’re good buddies,
you can tell me. Does Uncle Matthew spank your butt?” Russell cringed.
“Come on,” Peter pressed. “He does, doesn’t he.   He spanks your butt.”

“Only one time,” Russell blurted.

Peter sat down on the grass and pulled Russell down beside him. “And did he
take down your pants when he spanked your butt? Huh? Did he take your pants
down, Russell?”

Russell’s face flamed crimson. “No!” he lied.

“I knew it,” Peter chuckled. “He took your pants down. He spanked you on
your bare behind, didn’t he. Oh boy, that must have really hurt. Did it
really hurt, Russ?”
Russell tried to get up, but Peter put his large freckled hand on Russell’s
shoulder and forced him down on his bottom.

“I sure would like to see Uncle Matthew pull down your pants and spank you on
your bare butt. I bet you cry and scream like anything don’t you?”

“Let me up!” Russell said.

“You cry and scream and kick and say, ‘Oh, stop, Uncle Matthew, stop spanking
me on my poor, little, red bare butt!” Peter fell over backward howling with
laughter.

Russell was furious. While Peter was on his back laughing, Russell seized the
opportunity and got to his feet. “You fat freckled pig!” he yelled at Peter.

Peter stopped laughing at once and looked at Russell.   His eyes got small and
mean. “Oh, little boy, you shouldn’t of said that.” Peter looked around for
a moment and then his eyes fell on the ball.    He picked it up.

“C’mere!” he said to Russell.

“No!” Russell said, a look of alarm crossing his face.   Peter was going to do
something awful and he didn’t want to be in the yard alone with him. Russell
turned to run toward the house, but Peter caught him by the ankle and tugged
him down.

Peter grabbed the prostrate Russell and rolled him around on the grass.   He
messed up Russell’s hair, tore up clumps of grass and rubbed them vigorously
on Russell’s white shirt and short pants. Then, he jumped to his feet and,
before Russell had even gotten to his feet, pitched the ball right through the
dining room window.

“Yow!” Peter cried. “Russell, what ya want to do that for?!”

The back door of the house burst open and Uncle Matthew emerged, pipe clenched
in his teeth.   In his terror, Russell thought that Uncle Matthew looked like
a lion. His beard seemed to be bristling and his teeth showed as she clenched
his pipe between them.

“Who did that?!” he yelled.   “Who broke that window?!”

Peter pointed at Russell. “I don’t get it, Uncle Matthew,” Peter said,
“Russell was sayin’ all this stuff about you and then he just up and threw the
ball through the window.”

“Oh, he did, did he,” Matthew said.   He came hurtling down the steps to the
yard followed by James and Clarice.

“Oh dear,” Clarice was saying.   “I knew one of us should have been out here
supervising.”
Uncle Matthew said nothing, but made straight for Russell. He grabbed his
nephew by the upper arm.

“Just you come over here with me, young man!” Matthew raged.

“But, I didn’t....”

Matthew dragged Russell to a garden chair beneath the oak tree.

“Oh, come on, Matt, don’t,” James said, “or at least take him inside.”

Matthew glared at James. “If Russell can make a public display of himself out
here, then so can I.” Matthew turned to Russell. “I’ll teach you to break
windows,” he said.

Matthew picked Russell up under the arms and put him across his knees.   His
left arm went across the boy’s small back and around the side of his ribs.
Peter scooted around to Russell’s head, hanging over his Uncle’s left knee.

Peter looked into Russell’s stricken face and put his hand on the boy’s head.
“Gee, Russ,” Peter said sympathetically. “You shouldn’t of said all that
stuff about your Uncle.”

Peter squirmed as he felt Uncle Matthew reaching beneath him to undue the
buttons that fastened his shorts.

“It’s not nice to call your Uncle bad names, you know,” Peter said, “just
‘cause he gave ya a spankin’.”

Matthew had released the buttons and as he took hold of Russell’s waist band
he looked over at his nephew’s face. “So, you’ve been using bad language,
have you?”

Russell looked up at his uncle as best he could. “No, Uncle Matthew, don’t,
please, I didn’t.”

Matthew tugged Russell’s shorts down to his thighs and took hold of the band
of his cotton briefs.

Peter patted Russell’s head and clicked his tongue. Russell turned to look up
at the red head. “Your Uncle’s only tryin’ to teach ya right from wrong,”
Peter said. He mussed Russell’s hair. “You’re a good little kid, Russ, but
now ya got to learn a lesson.”

Matthew took down Russell’s briefs and placed his open palm on the boy’s
small, bare, bottom. “He certainly will learn a lesson. James, please go
upstairs and fetch me my army hairbrush.”

James sighed and turned toward the house. Clarice turned to follow him and
reached for her son’s hand.   “Come, Peter, we don’t need to see Russell get
punished.”

“Stay where you are, Clarice. Peter.   Just because Russell has been a
naughty boy doesn’t mean that other people have to turn away. If Russell
misbehaves when there is company, then he will be punished before the
company.”

Russell had begun to cry and kicked his legs fretfully.   His shorts and
briefs inched down to his knees. Matthew lifted his arm over his head but
before he could bring it down the back door of the house opened and three men
emerged.   Russell tried to turn and see, but his backside faced the house and
though the men approaching had a perfect view of his bare bottom, Russell
couldn’t see them.

In the lead was a pale James, brandishing a large wooden hairbrush. Behind
him was the rest of the company, Mr. Davis and the Reverend Hawkins.

John Davis was a husky catholic with crewcut blond hair and a large chin with
a very deep cleft. He was in his mid-thirties and looked like he’d played
football at college. He was a close personal friend of James’ and Matthews as
was the Reverend Hawkins. Oren Hawkins was dark, thin and very tall. He was
balding and kept his hair short to try and diminish the fact.

“Well, what have we here?” John Davis said, surveying the scene. “Doin’ a
little dustin’, are we Matt?”

“Russell is about to get a well-deserved spanking,” Matthew said.

Davis and Hawkins grinned and both men stared at the little boy lying bare
bottom on his Uncle’s lap.

Peter bent down and whispered to Russell, “Hey, maybe I should go in the front
yard and sell tickets. Bet lots kids would pay plenty to see your hienie turn
red.” Russell struggled a little and more tears ran down his face.

“Give me that hairbrush, James,” Matthew said. James unhappily handed
Matthew the hairbrush. Matthew hefted it and turned to Russell.

“Russell,” he said. The little boy turned his head again to look at his Uncle
looming over him. “I am spanking you for your disrespectful behavior, but
before I do, I want you to apologize to everyone for their having to witness
this act of discipline.”

“I’m so....rry,” Russell said, his voice contracted with his efforts to
repress his tears.

“Very well, then,” said Matthew.   “On to your spanking.”

Matthew raised the hairbrush over his head, and Peter squatted down to look
straight into Russell’s face.

CRACK! The hairbrush landed across Russell’s bottom and his cheeks contracted
with the force of the blow. Russell howled and tears jetted from his eyes.

CRACK! The hairbrush fell on the same place, and Russell kicked his legs and
swam with his arms.

CRACK! Peter left his place of vigil to check the damage and then hurried
back to Russell’s head.

CRACK! Russell wailed and his nose began to run.

Peter said, “Hey, Russ, you should see your rear end, it’s starting to get
all blotchy lookin’.   I bet that hairbrush really hurts.”

Russell wailed.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

“My father doled out punishment with a birch rod,” Oren Hawkins said to the
company. “He carried out all punishments to me and my sister, Harriet, in our
bedroom.”

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! Russell started pleading with his Uncle to stop.

“My old man used a strap,” John Davis responded. “He kept it on a hook in the
bathroom and always gave it to us in his bedroom. Made us take all our
clothes off first.”

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

“Ooooooh!   Uncle Maaaaaattt! Stoooop!   Pleeeeease.!”

Peter patted Russell’s head and looked into his weeping eyes, “That’s okay,
Russ, your uncle knows what’s good for ya, don’t ya Uncle Matthew?” Peter
looked sincerely at Uncle Matthew who was, just at that moment, preparing to
land another good smack with the hairbrush.

“I know when a boy needs to be spanked,” Matthew said.

CRACK!

Little Russell lay across his Uncle’s lap, surrounded by three men, a woman
and a playmate, while his Uncle Matthew paddled him soundly with his
hairbrush.   Russell’s cries, his tears, his thrashing, even his piteous
pleading were all for public consumption.
After perhaps two minutes of spanking, Matthew stopped. Russell’s bottom was
completely red and the skin had become shiny.   Although Matthew had stopped
whacking his nephew with the hairbrush, he made no move to lift the boy off of
his lap or to pull his pants back up to cover his shame.

Peter looked at Matthew with disappointment. Was the spanking over already?!

“Have you learned your lesson, Russell?” Uncle Matthew asked.

“Y-yes sir, Un-uncle Matthew,” Russell sobbed.

“Will you ever speak disrespectfully of your Uncle or anyone else?”

“N-no, Uncle Matthew.”

“Then say you’re sorry and that you won’t have so ungovernable a temper ever
again.”

“I...I...I’m sorry I had a bad (sob) temper.”

“And I forgive you for what you called me,” Peter quickly put in. “Even if it
was a sinful word.”

Matthew looked at Peter.   “Just what did Russell say?”

Peter said, “I can’t say it out loud, not in front of my mom.” He went around
to Matthew’s ear and whispered.

Matthew’s face turned red. He looked down at Russell with renewed anger, and
then a thought crossed his mind. He lifted the sobbing Russell off of his lap
and sat up himself. Then holding Russell by the arm, with his pants falling
to his ankles, he handed the hairbrush to Peter.

“Here, Peter, you may assume the seat of discipline. Russell has been
unforgivably rude to you, and you must correct him. Can you undertake such a
task?”

The redhead grabbed the hairbrush in his large, freckled fist and sat down.
“Can I?!” he said. “Here, give him over.”

Just as if he had done this all of his life, Peter took hold of the shocked
Russell and put him across his knees. Instinctively, Peter separated his
knees so that Russell lay draped over his lap just as he had over the man’s.
Peter put his left hand on the back of Russell’s head and pressed him down.

“This is gonna hurt me, lots more than it hurts you, Russ,” Peter said
piously. With great joy he lifted the hairbrush and started spanking his
friend.

Russell howled louder than he had ever howled before. It was not just the
result of the vigorous whacking he was receiving on his already-well reddened
bottom, it was the hideous turn of events.   Here he was, a small boy, being
spanked before adults by another child.

Peter held him firmly in place and punished him again and again. Russell
struggled, but Peter’s strength was well beyond his own.   Peter paddled and
paddled and Russell kicked and cried and pleaded.

“Oh, that’s enough, that’s enough!” Clarice cried out, putting her hands to
her ears.

“No it isn’t ma,” Peter said, whacking merrily away. He tousled Russell’s
hair. “Russ needs a good spankin’ and that’s what I’m giving him, aren’t I
Uncle Matt?”

‘You’re doing a fine job, Peter,” Matthew said. He was leaning against the
tree and refilling his pipe. He frankly enjoyed having the opportunity to
watch Russell being spanked, the perspective was quite different from when he
was doing the spanking.

After about five minutes of punishment, Matthew raised his hand and said,
“Thank you, Peter, you may stop now.”

“Aw, come on, Uncle Matt, I was just gettin’ the swing of it, wasn’t I Russ?”

James jerked the hairbrush out of Peter’s hand and said, just as if he didn’t
care about Matthew, “Get out of that seat, before I take your pants down!”

Peter jumped up with alacrity. One show/one boy was enough.

Uncle Matthew made Russell stand facing the tree without letting him pull up
his pants. “This will be your corner time to think over what you have done
and how you have affected the day.   However, you will not ruin the party.”
Matthew turned to the company. “Since we had all planned to spend some time
out-of-doors before eating, I suggest that we make the most of it.”

Chairs were taken out of the garage and put about the lawn. Then, with
Russell whimpering and rubbing his apple-red bottom, the adults at down to
talk.

Peter played with the ball for awhile and when no adults were looking, he
snuck over to the tree and said to Russell: “Hey, Russ. Ya know what? It was
really fun havin’ you over my knee, and now that I know how to get ya there,
I’m gonna do it again. You bad boy!”