9 July 2006

The Headmaster and I

"Wait here Hockey. Mr. Dover will be along shortly," the headmaster's secretary told me just a little too sternly. She was a plain looking gal but her skirt clung to her chubby ass appealingly. I had accidently broken a school window and it was her job to enter into the school records how times I would be struck by the headmaster's cane for my breakage.

I sat on the shiny wooden chair and wondered if my transgression would lead to my first instance of institutional corporal punishment. Luckily for me corporal punishment was not officially sanctioned in Canadian schools. The strap was part of Canada's sick history. The occasional teacher would punch out an unruly student if need be. Nobody said a word about such violent incidents later. This system seemed to work better than the institution of the strap.

Mr. Dover's cheerful willingness to hand out physical punishment was legendary. Dave, a boy from my economics class, had been beaten soundly before being expelled for circulating a story about what a shit school we attended and how the headmaster could suck his motherfucking dick if he disagreed. I talked to Dave about his visit to the headmaster in the pub several weeks later. "Getting kicked out of school was the best thing that ever happened to me mate." He eyed his new girlfriend as he said this. She was a spicy one! "Dover, that sick bastard, had it in for me for years. I could tell just how much pleasure he got from caning me. His dick was popping out of his pants like Freddy Mercury's. That sick motherfucker."

As I waited more secretaries wandered by. They too were plain looking and plainly dressed. Their long skirts and neck hugging blouses left everything to the imagination. The sound of the headmaster scribbling away behind the closed door beside me made it easy to suppress an erection. It would be wonderful to have a secretary or two.

The door opened. Mr. Dover said, "Come in Hockey." I followed him into a big room with lots of books on the walls. I sat in the shiny wooden chair across from his desk as he circled the desk to sit in his. He looked at me disapprovingly and said, "Stand up Hockey." Then asked me, "Tell me exactly what happened."

I told him, "I was chasing Bentley down the hall when he went through the door. When I put up my hand to open the door the glass smashed. It was like when a hockey player hits the glass just right after a body check sir." Bentley had grabbed my prized Sex Pistols' "Anarchy In the U.K." 45 out of my bag.

Mr. Dover looked down at a sheet of paper. "We do not play hockey in the hallways of this school Hockey. We do not play hockey in England at all. I suggest you save your window breaking for football on the weekend. That pane of safety glass is going to cost a good deal to replace. But I am going to let you off with a warning this time." As he said this he eyed his cane in its holder up against the wall. "You may go."

When I got back to my home room Emerson was the first to ask, "Did old man Ben give you a whacking?" Most of my classmates had got a caning during their years at the school. How could you be a boy and not fuck up every now and then?

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