Acidman brings back some fond memories of my life as an ‘abused’ child. We had three big willow trees in the backyard where I grew up, but I don’t recall ever being told to go pick the switch that would beat my ass. Oh no. My mother was much more creative than that.
She’d beat my ass with my own toys when I stepped too far out of line.
Remember these?
And these?
I finally figured out around the age of 8 or so that when I recieved these gifts, they weren’t actually for ME and started asking for Christmas and birthday gifts that couldn’t easily be turned into instruments of ‘torture’. I can’t tell you how many paddleball sets she ripped the rubber bouncy ball off of and beat my ass with, but I can tell you that I deserved every single one.
‘Once burnt, twice learnt’ indeed.
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