Little Jake stood there and thought about what he had done and what had happened to correct those things. It seemed like a good long time, and then finally Daddy Gillen said, “Come on, Jake, time to come out to play.”
Then, little johnny tapped Jake on the shoulder and finally got his attention. Little Johnny was one of Jake’s best friends at camp. He came up to Jake and, standing a couple of feet away, tossed a stick at him, “Come on, Jake, catch!” It was a paddle for some game.
Jake wasn’t familiar with that game in which this particular paddle was used, but Jake quickly found himself getting lost in the play room.
It was a long, fun afternoon after that as all the other Daddies showed the boys how the paddles were used in the various games they played. But it was hard to not get a little queasy, and Jake couldn’t really drink water because it kept burning like crazy. Not until sundown did Jake’s tongue start to go back to normal.
By that time it was dinner.
He wasn’t gonna be able to eat without his mouth being on fire. The hygienic burn of the green soap was with him until he went to bed that night.
Daddy Gillen understood, and when Jake went to him to explain why he couldn’t eat his dinner, he was excused to go to his room and lie on his tummy. Jake really loved his daddy for that, it made him feel taken real good care of and understood completely.
The sting in his mouth reminded him of the sting on his bottom and how that hairbrush has something that he also loved Mr. Gillen for. He grew to respect that hairbrush and put it gently on the dresser table, turned out the light and cried himself to sleep that night in his bunk bed at camp.
Daddy’s Little Helper
With that memory seared into Jake’s behind he knew Mr. Gillen would want to know he could put any behavioral problems immediately to rest this Memorial Day weekend, so that brush would go on the dresser of his little boy’s room at the Poconos as expectedjust like it had at camp last year.
Jake also brought along another critical little kitchen helper. Mr. Gillen was likely to try teaching Jake new things, like burger-making and tomato-slicing and bacon frying, but as he well knew, few burgers come to the table without some bun warming before meal time.
So Jake had one of Mr. Gillen’s trusted butter paddles with a knotted rope-holder for an eye-hook in the kitchen, ready to be “at the ready” should the time come. Jake shouldn’t have put off packing up his things the night before. It had left him on edge and worried about things he’d forgotten. He’d gotten so excited about dressing in all his playing shorts, hiking shorts and swimming trunks, he’d completely forgotten to bring long trousers!
This was the mountains they were going to and he’d have to spend the entire weekend in short shorts. He even forgot his PJs. He’s never slept in just his briefs before or sat in front of the TV and watcedh TV in just his spiderman pans. He didn’t even have his Halloween batman cape to wear with his briefs could so he show off his Halloween costume to Mr.. He loved to run around the house in this costume as a superhero. It was his cross between batman and spiderman ,and he completely forgot to bring his costume.
Mr. Gillen had never allowed him to sit around after dinner time in front of the TV, unless it was going to be in his PJs. PJs were required. Underpants in front of the TV? That was for the bigger boys, not Jake. This was going to be a weekend of learnin all sorts of new big boy things. Perhaps he’d try it and see if Mr. Gillen would allow him to behave like a big boy.
The train was taking too long. Jake was getting frustrated. If he could of, he would of yelled at the conductor to speed through Trenton and Metro Park, but truth be told, Jake couldn’t find the conductor. In Thomas the Tank Engine, the conductor is way easier to find.
Anyways, Mr. Gillen was a great daddy. He knew just what to say and to do. When Jake got down, Mr. Gillen cheered him up. When Jake was listening real close, Mr. Gillen would tell great stories. And when Jake didn’t wanna listen and just wanted to pout and lay around, Mr. Gillen knew how to light a fire under Jake’s behind to grab that boy’s attention.
As we already saw, Mr. Gillen sometimes had to wash Jake’s mouth out with soap. There was this one time at camp, where one of the other boys, Pete was laughing really hard at Jake, when he saw Jake getting a spanking. When Jake was standing in the corner, thinking about what he’d done, Pete came over and started calling him a big crying baby.
But Mr. Gillen said, “Now Jake, just ignore him. Pete’s being a brat, and if he doesn’t watch out, I’ll get his daddy over here, and tell him what he's up to.” At camp, Daddys like Mr. Gillen didn’t take liberties without being sure the other Daddies didn’t mind.
But Mr. O’Donnell, Pete’s daddy, really didn’t mind that Pete was so feisty and badly behaved. Pete seemed to never get his rumpus paddled in public.
And that just burned Jake more than his hot little fanny did and so he blurted out at Pete, “Shut up, shut up, shut up you peckerhead snotnose.”
Mr. Gillen pulled Petey away, who was crying, “What did you call me? What did you call me?!”
And as Jake repeated himself, Mr. Gillen marched Jake to the sink in the boys bathroom, grabbed the bar of green smelly soap and proceeded to push it past jake’s yammering lips. In an out he did and with intermittent spanks to Jake’s already red bottom. Sorer and more sore his fanny got, but the soap put Jake directly back in his place.
After the hollering, Jake quieted right down. And little snotty Petey? He cowered away slowly and quietly knowing a real man was in charge and no shenanigans were gonna be accepted.
But Jake didn’t see Mr. Gillen’s actions as a bad thing at all. He knew Mr. Gillen really cared for him an made him a better boy. If Pete wasn’t such a chicken an hid behind his lousy dad, he could be one of Mr. Gillen’s boys too. But this was Servicemen’s weekend--Memorial Day, and in the Webeloes he'd learned all about it. And this time there would be no Pete whose behavior was so bad and made Jake always look good in comparison. And so Jake would have to be on his best behavior.
Jake knew how out of hand he was getting living away from his favorite Daddy Gillen. In fact, the older he got, the more out of hand he was becoming. Chances are that Mr. Gillen would take him over his knee a time or two this weekend, but then after Cornertime and some punishment chores or some such, everything would be great again and the two of them would be telling stories, swimming in the chilly lake, and cooling little Jake’s bottom down after a moment of high-handed hijinx.
Frankly, Jake considered himself real lucky. A whole weekend, where his every step, his every action would be considered, catered to, sometimes dealt with, and always sealed with a big boy promise to be good next time, then…away we go, on to the next adventure.
At Newark, the anticipation was killing him, so he sat on the carpeted area in front of the last row of seats and repacked his messy suitcase, so everything fit.
He ran to the potty and washed his hands. There, he tied on his black-bottomed tennis shoes with the crazy spider stripes laid over the white background and black mesh tops and hiked up his horizontal striped ankle socks, tucked his Captain Underpants t-shirts into his own Old Navy “scary” jack-o-lantern underpants that he got for Halloween–that 3-pack also come with briefs with creepy crawly spiders on the outside–right on the rumpus (!)
Then pulled up his yellow shorts, opened the toilet door and sat like a good boy on the edge of the train seat on what would be the last time for three days that his little rumpus would be under his control.
”Penn Station! Penn Station! This train goes on to Boston. If you’re not going to Boston, you need to be getting off this train.” Up Jake got!
You didn’t need to tell Jake Teneby twice, he thought to himself.
Well...sometimes you did, but that was another matter entirely.