Me, Myself, My Father... And One Hell Of A Beating.

When I was young, say 6-7 years old, I always used to ask my father to take me to the Theme Park and my father would always lead me on and say that we'd go soon. Thinking about that now, I understand why my dad wouldn't ever take me. It's because the best place for a theme park at the time was a place called Alton Towers and that was literally a 3 hour drive away. Plus when we get there it'd of costed us a fortune for me NOT to be tall enough to go on any of the rides.
I was a mischievous little shit as a child. I did many stupid things to get the ever loving shit beaten out of me by my father. I kicked footballs at moving cars, buses, lorries (trucks). I remember once when I was in school one day and we were allowed to bring a toy in for the day. Reason? I have no frikken' clue but all I remember is that I brought in a Darth Maul Star Wars action figure and I whacked it over a kid's head. That was funny at the time until I got home and found out that the school had contacted my father. Then of course I got the shit beaten out of me like there was no tomorrow.
Out of all the beatings that I deserved (all of them) as a child was when I was around 6. I was outside, on a field opposite my house, sitting with Adam, my neighbour who's about 5 years older than me. And in them days, don't forget, there was no internet porn for guys like us to stare at and wonder wht athe fuck was going on. But there was Sega Megadrive but that of course got boring after a while. The only fun thing to do was go outside and make little kids do stupid shit. And I just so happened to be that one "kid".
Adam and I weren't really friends. He was basically that guy that would always be harsh and nice to me whenever he wanted. So, we were sat outside on the field opposite my house. Bare in mind that there is a road between the field and my house. Adam told me to pull a "moonie" at the next car that went past. I was a little shit so, I agreed and waited for a car to come past on the quiet. After a while, alas, a car came past and I turned around and pulled my pants down. Showing my childhood innocent full moon to the car.

All of a sudden I hear the car hit the breaks directly  in front of my home. I pull my pants back up and slightly shit my pants (not literally). I checked who they were, and I died inside when I realized I knew them. They only lived down the road from us and I had a series of fights with their children. So, they knew who I was too. I saw the door open, a man comes out of the car furiously walking towards my front door. I also saw his children in the back seats shocked from what they just witnessed.

 I sat back down and I preyed to God, hoping my father wouldn't answer the door. I hoped my mother would answer, because she had never raised hit me. She was pretty chilled, well, only comparing to my father. The door opens, and I'm slightly happy to see that my mother answered. They had a small discussion and all I saw was a finger being pointed towards my direction and my mother nodded, the guy walks back into the car and drives off and fucks off to his miserable life.

I sat there waiting for a while, swallowing that lump of fear and guilt in the back of my throat. I also forgot to mention that my mother wouldn't hit me BUT she'd always snitch on me though. My front door opens and out comes my father, looking so angry. If he didn't have such a massive beer-belly I'd of actually compared him to the incredible Hulk and called him the brown Hulk. He storms towards me and grabs me by the ear and literally dragged me across the street while my trainers scraped along the floor. 

I reach inside the house, at the bottom of the stairs, I get two hammer slaps across the face and also hear some pretty funny Punjabi insults thrown at me. As a child I had that shitty careless haircut, which was so easy to grab onto. Let's put it this way, my cousins used to call me a fucking "MUSHROOM". Anyway, so, my father dragged my up the stairs by my precious home-cut hair, throws me into his room and pulls his belt out and starts hitting me with it. After a while I think even he thought it was a bit extreme to use the belt so he throws it away and moves back to the hair. My father grabs my hair and literally swings me off the ground and around the room. All I remember was seeing the room spinning as if I were on a roller-coaster or something. I couldn't feel the top of my head for at least a week or two. Every single time I'd touch it, I'd scream like a school boy bitch with pain.
After a week, my father obviously wanted his son back and got me to sit on his lap. He asks me whether I learned my lesson after such a demolishing ass kicking.. and of course, I still felt cocky and I said, "I'VE LEARNT THAT I SHOULD STOP ASKING TO GO TO THEME PARKS WHEN I CAN GET MY DAD TO GRAB MY HAIR AND MAKE A THEME PARK AT HOME!!"