si_love2@hotmail.com

I stole a dirt bike and somebody told pop-pop damn!!!! He don’t play that shit he’s a mean old man. He made me pick out my own switch just to beat my ass with it. At first I bought him this little limb and the way he looked at me I knew I was really going to get it then. He went to the trunk of his car and pulled out Ole Bessie. I immediately started to cry. I could of shitted on myself, DAMN…DAMN… DAMN…WHY!!! You see Ole Bessie was this belt about a inch thick with holes that ran down the middle of it. The belt buckle I think was made of lead and when he hit you with it that was your ass. Pop-Pop walked over with Ole Bessie in hand and started to talk to me… he said, “Why did you take that bike it didn’t belong to you. You know better boy what has gotten into you.” I was scared as hell the tears were streaming down my face and snot running out my nose. I opened my mouth hoping to say something intelligent and all that came out was “they gave it to me.” Boy here come Ole Bessie flying from the sky… wham, on my legs wham on my back wham, wham, wham on my butt. Ole Bessie was coming from all directions and pop-pop never broke a sweat. He gave me about 10 more hits but it seemed like he was beating my ass for about 20 more minutes. When he got done my ass my arms my legs my back shit my legs and my back had so many whelps for a minute I thought I was a run-away slave. The ass whooping I got that day should go down in history. Pop-Pop taught me a lesson about stealing never again did I take something that didn’t belong to me. Now I have a son of my own and I tell him the story of what happened to me that day. Hoping he stays on the right path. Because what he don’t know is that I inherited Ole Bessie.