This is a story taken from a story told by Jack in Raising Danny part 68: Thanksgiving Day. Be warned that Jim is a physically abused child and this story has descriptions of his abuse.
Jack and Jim were playing when Jim decided they should have some fun and egg Mr. Larsen’s house. He was a mean old man who always yelled at the kids if they cut across his yard. It was getting dark so they raided the hen house and then went to play their prank. They thought they were fast enough to get away if he came after them. They’d each hit the house five times when their ears were gripped painfully.
“What do you two think you’re doing?” Mr. Larsen yelled at them, twisting their ears painfully.
“Nothing,” Jim said, trying to squirm away from the grip unsuccessfully.
Jack just kept silent. He knew they’d been caught.
Mr. Larsen questioned, “You’re Jim and Jack, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Sir,” Jack admitted. “We’re sorry. We’ll help you clean up if you let us go.” He was trying to figure out a way to get them out of trouble.
“Not a chance, young man. I’m taking both of you home to your fathers.” Mr. Larsen knew the boys’ fathers would most likely punish them for what they had done.
Jim froze. He knew what would happen if his dad found out and it wouldn’t be pleasant. “Please, Mr. Larsen. I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t tell my dad.”
“Too late for that. Should have thought of what your father would do to you before you egged my house.” Mr. Larsen pulled on Jack’s ear again to get his attention. “Whose house is closer?”
“Jim’s, Sir,” Jack told him. “It’s just down the street.”
“Please,” Jim pleaded again. “I’m sorry.”
“What are you so worried about, young man?” Mr. Larsen could tell Jim was nervous. “You think your dad’s going to beat you?”
Jim didn’t answer. He knew he would get beat, but he didn’t like other people to know that. He just dropped his eyes.
“If you two promise to stay with me while I walk you home, I’ll let go of your ears,” Mr. Larsen told them, hoping they’d agree. He didn’t really want to walk them all the way home by force.
Jack was the first to speak. “Yes, Sir.” His ear was released and he rubbed it to take away the sting.
“And you,” he said, tugging on Jim’s ear.
“Yes, Sir,” Jim agreed quietly. He didn’t have much choice. Rubbing his own ear once it was released, he thought with dread of what was to come. Slowly they walked to Jim’s house.
Jim became more and more frightened each step they took towards his house. He hung back as Mr. Larsen knocked on the door.
Jim’s dad opened the door to find his son, Jack and Mr. Larsen standing on the front porch. “Mr. Larsen, is there a problem?”
“These two boys decided it would be fun to egg my house tonight,” he answered.
Jim stared at the ground, unwilling to meet his dad’s eyes. He could already feel the anger radiating from them.
“Thank you for letting me know. I’ll make sure it never happens again.” Jim’s dad glared at Jim. “Get up to your room this instant.” Jim edged past his dad and ran up to his room, not saying a word. “Is there anything else you need?” he asked Mr. Larsen.
“No, that’s all. I just have to take Jack home now.” Mr. Larsen and Jack left as Jim’s dad closed the front door and strode up the stairs to his son’s room.
Jim was sitting on the bed rubbing his hands together nervously when his dad walked in. He immediately stood at attention.
“Strip,” his dad ordered, holding a riding crop in his right hand.
“Sir, please,” Jim pleaded for all it was worth. “I won’t do it again. Please.”
His dad brought the crop down on Jim’s leg. “I said strip,” he said again forcefully.
Jim yelped as quietly as he could. He knew if he cried out too loudly it would only make it worse. He unbuttoned his shirt and folded it, laying it on the desk chair. His dad always insisted his room be tidy. Then he removed his shoes and socks. After removing his pants and laying them on the chair with the shirt, he finally removed his underpants and laid them on the chair. He stood, naked, in front of his dad.
“On the bed,” his dad ordered.
Jim lay on the bed on his stomach. He covered his head with his hands, knowing what was coming. The first stroke fell across his back, leaving a large red welt, but not breaking the skin. His dad had had plenty of practice in how much force would be needed to hurt as much as possible without leaving scars. The strokes came fast and furious after that. Jim never knew where they would hit. He just lay on the bed sobbing. After what seemed like an eternity, the beating stopped.
“You have a half hour. Then I want you dressed and doing your chores. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir,” Jim answered through his tears. His dad never gave him much time to recover after a beating. He was used to it though.
A short time after Jim’s dad left the room, his brother, Steven, came in. “Are you okay, Jim?” he asked, sitting next to him on the bed.
“I will be,” Jim answered. “You shouldn’t be here. You’ll
get in trouble too.”
“Dad’s in the barn,” Steven explained. “He won’t come back until your half hour’s up. Let me help.” He held up the bottle of liniment.
“Okay,” Jim replied. They’d been through this before, unfortunately.
Steven carefully applied the liniment to his brother’s welts. Nothing was said between them, as there was nothing to say.
Realizing his time was almost up; Jim carefully got of the bed and dressed himself. He still had his chores to do or face another beating. When he walked outside, his father placed his hand on Jim’s shoulder. Jim cringed under the pressure. “I just saw your friend helping to clean Mr. Larsen’s house. Get over there and help too. Then get right back here to do your chores,” his dad told him.
“Yes, Sir,” Jim said in surprise. However, anything that would get him away from his house was welcome. He walked to Mr. Larsen’s house and stepped up on the porch. “Mr. Larsen, I’d like to help clean up the mess.”
Jack was already scrubbing the egg off the woodwork. He’d watched Jim walk up the porch, cringing with each step he took. He didn’t say anything however. He only offered a supportive smile.
“Did your dad send you over here?” Mr. Larsen asked.
“Yes, Sir,” Jim replied. “I do want to help though.”
“Okay,” Mr. Larsen said. “Grab a sponge and start scrubbing.”
Jim picked up a sponge from the bucket and went to work. The egg had already dried, making it hard to remove. The work of scrubbing pulled on Jim’s welts causing him to grimace in pain as he worked.
Mr. Larsen didn’t miss Jim’s expressions of pain, even though he tried hard not to show anything. Finally he stopped Jim. “Young man, I want to see your back.”
Jim froze. He didn’t like anybody knowing he got beat. It was a family thing and he wanted to keep it that way. “I’m fine, Sir,” he tried to deny.
“No, you are not. Take off your shirt and let me see what your dad did to you.” Mr. Larsen had expected the boys to be disciplined, but Jim seemed to have received worse than he’d thought.
“Please, Sir,” Jim pleaded. “Not out here.” He didn’t want to show him at all, but especially not where anyone walking by could see.
“Come in the house then,” Mr. Larsen insisted, escorting Jim into the house. Jack stayed outside and continued to clean, giving his friend some privacy.
“Okay, take off your shirt and let me see your back,” Mr. Larsen told him.
Jim reluctantly removed his shirt, exposing his back, welts and all, to Mr. Larsen.
Mr. Larsen breathed deeply. The marks were crisscrossed on Jim’s back. He could see the marks extended below Jim’s pants. “How far do the marks go down?” he asked sympathetically.
“To my knees, Sir,” Jim answered. “May I put my shirt back on now?”
“Of course,” Mr. Larsen answered. Jim put his shirt back on. “I’m sorry you got beat, Jim.”
“It’s not your fault, Mr. Larsen,” Jim didn’t like anyone feeling sorry for him.
“If I hadn’t told your dad, he wouldn’t have beaten you.”
“If I hadn’t egged your house, you wouldn’t have needed to tell my dad,” Jim countered.
Mr. Larsen couldn’t say anything to that. He hadn’t expected Jim to take responsibility for his actions. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“No, Sir,” Jim answered. “My brother already put liniment on them. May I get back to work? I still have chores I have to do at home.”
“Certainly.” Mr. Larsen watched Jim walk back outside and start scrubbing again. He been surprised that Jim hadn’t blamed him for what happened. Instead of standing back and watching the boys clean the wall themselves, he joined in and helped them so they could finish faster. Soon the house was cleaned. “Thank you, boys, for doing such good work. Do you want to come in and have some lemonade?”
“No, Mr. Larsen,” Jim answered. “I need to go back home now. I’m really sorry for egging your house in the first place. It was a stupid idea.”
“That’s okay,” Mr. Larsen assured him. “You’ve paid for it. Feel free to stop by and visit any time, Jim.”
“Yes, Sir. I’ll be going now.” Jim shook Mr. Larsen’s hand and walked back home as quickly as he could. He still had a lot of work to do.
Mr. Larsen looked at Jack who had been rather quiet while cleaning the mess. “Would you like to come in for some lemonade?”
“Yes, Sir,” Jack answered. He walked into the house with Mr. Larsen and accepted the glass of lemonade he was given.
Mr. Larsen sat down at the kitchen table. “Have a seat, Jack.” He motioned to the chair across from him.
Jack debated whether to sit down or not. His backside didn’t feel too bad at the moment, but he knew the pressure of sitting on the chair would bring back the pain. He shook his head. “I’d rather stand if you don’t mind.”
Mr. Larsen became concerned. “Did your dad beat you too?”
“No, Sir!” Jack said quickly. “I got the belt, but he didn’t beat me. Just my backside was hit. I deserved it.” Jack hung his head. “My dad’s not like Jim’s dad,” he said quietly.
“You knew what would happen to Jim?” Mr. Larsen inquired. Jack nodded. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“That was up to Jim, Sir. He doesn’t like people to know. I found out the hard way.”
Mr. Larsen didn’t like the sound of that. “What happened?”
Jack didn’t know why he was willing to talk to Mr. Larsen, but it seemed right. “A couple years ago we were playing in Jim’s room. We got a little loud and woke up Jim’s mom who was sick. Jim’s dad came into the room in a rage. I backed myself into the corner and his dad told Jim to strip and then get on the bed. Then he hit him with the riding crop over and over. When he stopped, he noticed me in the corner. He grabbed my arm and turned me to face the wall. He told me I was just as much at fault and needed to learn a lesson too.” Jack stopped for a moment. He was having a hard time reliving the experience. “He hit me four times on my backside and even through my clothes, it stung like anything. Worse than anything my dad ever did to punish me.”
Mr. Larsen had listened quietly to Jack’s story. He didn’t approve of beating children, but he didn’t know of any way to make someone stop. “Did you ever tell your parents?” he finally asked.
“No, Sir,” Jack admitted. “I knew they’d be angry at me for getting in trouble in at Jim’s house.”
“Your dad seems like a good man, Jack. Are you sure he would have been angry with you?”
“I don’t know what you mean, Mr. Larsen.”
“Did you think your dad would punish you again?” Jack nodded. “I can’t see your dad punishing you after Jim’s dad had already hit you.”
Jack thought for a moment. He hadn’t thought about that then. Not getting in even more trouble had been the only thing on his mind. However, his dad wasn’t like Jim’s dad. He always knew what he was being punished for and his dad had only ever hit him on his backside. His dad had also never seemed angry when he was being spanked, just kind of sad. Getting a hug at the end was nice, too. Jim’s dad had just told him to go home and walked out of the room. “No, Sir. I guess not. My dad’s not like that.”
“I didn’t think so,” Mr. Larsen agreed. He changed the subject. “You did a good job cleaning up tonight.”
“Thank you, Sir.” Jack blushed. It felt weird getting complimented for cleaning up a mess he had caused.
“It’s getting harder to keep up with taking care of the house lately,” Mr. Larsen began. “If you’d be interested, I’d like to hire you to work for me when you have the time.”
Jack’s face lit up. Hire him. That meant money. He rarely had any money of his own. “Yes, Sir. I’d like that. I need to ask my parents first though.”
“Not a problem. Just stop by and let me know.” Mr. Larsen finished off his lemonade and set the glass on the table.
Jack did the same. “I should be getting home now. I’ll let you know as soon as I talk to my parents.”
Mr. Larsen stood up and escorted Jack to the door. “You do
that, and Jim’s welcome to work for me too.”
“I’ll tell him that.” Jack turned around and shook Mr. Larsen’s hand. “Good night, Sir.”
“Good night, Jack,” Mr. Larsen replied. “Should I walk you home? It’s getting pretty dark.”
“I’ll be fine,” Jack answered, picking up his bucket. “It’s not far.”
“Okay then.” Mr. Larsen watched Jack walk down the sidewalk towards his house. He might not be able to stop what was happening, but he’d try to support the boys as much as he could.