When people tell me, brag really, about spanking their kids I tell them the story of the first time I was spanked. My step-dad poured me a bowl of Cheerios for breakfast, and for some reason wanted me to finish all of it. It’s odd how parents force their children eat certain portions of food. Of course I couldn’t finish it, so while he was in the living room I dumped it in the garbage. He came back, asked if I finished, I said, “Yes, Sir!” But my heart dropped as he walked right up to the trashcan, opened it, and asked, “What’s this then?” As if he expected it the entire time. You can’t put a child in a position where lying is a good idea, and then they hit them for doing it poorly (it takes time to lie well). He took me to my room, brought out the wooden paddle he purchased for the sole purpose of hitting my ass. That goddamn thing felt awful. The next morning I got up while my parents slept, pulled a steak knife out of the wood holder, and crept into their room. I held it right over his heart as he slept. Of course I didn’t stab him, but not all kids are as nice as me.