How about a "back in the day my dad whooped some butt!" Thread?

Back in the very early fifties, My dad drove truck for a block company. Back then they used to load and unload the blocks by hand, so my dad was quite fit. Well, around then the teamsters union was trying to get into the company. My dad and one other driver were the only hold outs left. So. one day, when my dad and the other driver had stopped at the local diner for a coffee break, the teamsters sent a little "muscle" to persuade them to join the union. When it was all over, my dad and the other driver continued on their delivery and the four teamsters goons were on their way to the hospital. After that, the teamsters left them alone, and my dad never joined the union. A couple of years after that he quit and started selling cars.

My dad was a small little (5'5" @ 125#) Scotch/Irish guy but he did have a way about him. He could box both your ears off before you knew what hit you but he never used violence.
If you did the right thing, he was the 1st to praise you for it and he always remembered the good things that you did and sometimes that resulted in a little trip to places you liked to go...ice cream shop, hot dog stand, Cincy Reds game, etc.
If you did mess up in his presence, he would usually talk to you in that tone of voice which meant that he was upset and you better change your ways.
If you got that "wait till your father gets home" statement from mom, you know you are in deep doggy do-do.
Sometimes he would address the problem before dinner, sometimes during dinner, sometimes after dinner, sometimes before bedtime and sometimes a week later and sometimes NEVER.
You never knew when IT was going to happen. The fear of the unknown will tear you inside out and make you think twice before doing something stupid.

I only got spanked 1 time that I can remember. :coffee2:

Most of what I got I deserved. one Fourth of July my Dad was walking across the yard and I put a lit Cherry bomb in a Coke bottle and throught it behind Him. couldn't have timed it better. I can't begin to discribe what happened next:crybaby:

We used to go watch the Macon Peaches play baseball from time to time. This one time, these two guys were in front of us gettin drunker and louder. I guess I was probably 20 and daddy about 60. He had asked them repeatedly pretty nice to hold it down so we could hear the game. He finally had enough and stood up, grabbed the bigger guy, lifted him off the ground, spun him around and busted his nose all over his face. The old dude runnin security was one of daddy's old friends and saw it all. He came over and "escorted" the two drunks out while we stayed and watched the game. That was daddy. He never apologized and was always ready to make things right. lol

When i was small we had gone grocery shopping i wore my cowboy boots,hat,chaps,guns/holsters i walked up behind an old woman pulled out my guns and said stick em up you old fart and pulled the triggers and to my suprise i had left the caps in my guns and they went off in turn scaring the old lady whom screamed and that alerted my father who came out of nowhere and commenced to whoopin my *** up one aisle and down the other in front of everyone [they were clapping] i still don't know what happened to my cowboy stuff. My parents had disipline tools in every drawer in the house [plus hotwheel tracks ect.].

When I was about 8, I was hanging out with some bad kids. We decided it would be cool to take up smoking. One day, we were hanging out in a football equipment shed at a school smoking, and one of the idiots threw his butt in a trash can full of paper. A couple of us (including me) barely made it out. I lost a snowboot somehow, so it made it easy for the FD to track where we went in the snow.
I remember walking in the kitchen into something like an interrogation. Don't remember much past that, but to this day, if I even try to light a cigarette, I puke. I'm glad for that whoopin'.