Wednesday, August 16, 2006

I tried to beat some sense into that boy, I beat him hard, there just was no other way. When you got eight of them to care for and still more to come -- well, he was always trouble.

Always got his brother in trouble, his brother was a good boy, never did anything wrong. His father didn’t like him much, so I took care he wouldn’t be rough on him -- he was a good boy.

Donald had to be punished -- more and more as time went on -- he’d pretend, he’d lie, he’d just not say anything. He’d hide, he’d hide things, he broke things, he didn’t obey, he caused trouble.

I beat him every time I could find a reason -- I wanted him to know that he’d be punished in life if he did anything that his brother wouldn’t. His brother was a good boy.


Then he started running away -- and when he was caught, he told them that I pulled his pants down and beat his behind with a board. Well, yes, that was the only way -- when he turned sixteen he decided he was too big, so he refused to take his pants down -- I woke up his dad and had him beat good -- more than I wanted really, the boy was limping with an awful cough and bloody face -- had him sit down with the other kids just so they could see him cry, but he wouldn’t cry anymore!

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