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  • This is my Blog...There are many like it, but this one is mine...

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        Thursday, July 24, 2008

    The Saint Comes Marching In...

    Yesterday, the wife and kids seem to get back a little sooner from the kids' play date at the park. She ushered the kids into the house, as I watched from the landing above...I like to do that whole 'The Pope In His Balcony At St Peter's square' thing. I held my peace because the wife's face had death, destruction, and just a touch of murder on it.

    Nat flew up past me with a look of panic on her face, and ran into her room and hid in a corner. The wife stomped up the stairs...Doom Incarnate. She went into my room, and went through my belt collection, and chose one that took her fancy. She took a few practice swings, then stepped up to the plate.

    Long story short: Nat had been playing with a boy, and he pissed her off, and she yelled at him that 'he was a freak!' The wife stalked over to her and told her that we do not call people those names, and Nat started her downward spiral into perdition by yelling at the wife 'But he's a freak!' We've all heard how fond God is of Rebellion, and what He does when you rebel, and His saints pretty much follow the same rules.

    The wife slapped the belt into her hand with a crack, and ordered Nat to rise and come stand before her. She turned to me, I there putting on my most angry, contemptuous face. The wife snaps at me and asks "What is the nastiest tasting shaving cream you have?" I told her, and she snatched Nat by the front of her hair, and drug her into the bathroom.

    Nat hasn't been alive all that long, and I am sure that she saw what there was of it flash before her eyes.

    So, the wife gets the can of Noxema medicated menthol shaving cream, fills Nat's mouth with it, and tells her to recite her ABC's. And don't you dare spit until Mom tells you to. She tried to tongue it out at one point, and I cupped my hand and popped it way into the back of her mouth.
    After several false starts, and restarts (I think she may have been a little distracted) she got the ABC's and the wife let her spit and rinse. And now, let the beatings begin...

    The wife dragged Nat back into her room, and wore out some leather. I must emphasize, here, the the entire time through all of this the wife was reading Nat the Riot Act, cataloging her sins, offering dire predictions of Nat's future if she didn't repent her ways, and ever did it again, and here is where I found that Nat had refused to come to her mother in the park, had indeed sassed her most foul, in full voice, and had made a general spectacle of herself to one and all.

    The wife turned away, thought better of it, and went back and gave her three more whacks. Then, unsatisfied with her backhand, she went back again and worked on it.

    Next week, let's see if she learned anything.