Disclaimer: Nope. Not mine; don’t make any money off ‘em; etc., etc., etc.

A/N: There are those that believe that Bogg has never laid a hand on Jeff; personally, I’m not so sure. In “Billy and Bully,” Jeff says, “Bogg’s gonna clobber me.” There’s something in the way he says it that suggests to me that it’s happened before. We actually see him get slapped pretty seriously in “The Travels of Marco Polo,” and, in “An Arrow Pointing East,” Bogg gives him a veiled threat: “Remember what happened the last time you didn’t listen to me.” Jeffrey’s reaction to that line tells me somehow that he wasn’t referring to something going wrong.

oOo

BOGG:

He’s done it this time. There’s only one way to handle this, and I’m not ashamed to admit, I don’t like it one bit. “This hurts me more than it hurts you” is a cliché that almost goes back to my own time, I think, but that doesn’t make it any less true.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen a kid react the way he does to a scolding. Annoyed, yes --and don’t get me wrong, he’s done that plenty of times--but there are also times when the kid positively wilts if I give him so much as a stern is going to kill him...and maybe, just maybe, that means I’ll never have to do it again.

We land in a secluded wooded area, and before he can do more than sit up and clear his head, I grab him, haul him over my knee, and land half a dozen good swats. When I let him up, he stares at me for a minute, then turns and runs off. I let him go; I doubt he’ll go far.

He doesn’t. He goes about twenty feet, sits down on the ground--carefully--and is just very quiet. He’s trying to hide the fact that he’s crying. I don’t blame him; I feel like crying myself. I know I’m going to be seeing that look in his eyes in my nightmares for a while. Will somebody please tell me why I feel like I just betrayed him somehow?

JEFF:

I don’t believe it. I don’t want to believe it. He just spanked me! What I did wasn’t that bad...was it? I can’t even stand to look at him right now; I just go off a little ways to get the tears out of my eyes, only they won’t stop coming. I can’t explain it, but somehow this hurts worse -- inside -- than anything I ever got from my parents.

I finally manage to stop crying, and I sneak a glance over my shoulder at him. He isn’t looking at me at all; he’s sitting there where we landed, kind of hunched over, with this look on his face like somebody just ripped his guts out. I’m not sure, I can’t tell at this distance, but I think maybe he’s crying, too, and that hurts worst of all, ‘cause I know I’m the one that did the ripping.

They used to say it as a joke in some real old cartoons and movies... You know, “This hurts me more than it hurts you.” I always thought it was the corniest thing I ever heard, but now I’m not so sure. I can’t stand to look at him anymore; it hurts too much.

But I can’t leave him like that! I just can’t! He looks like he needs a hug more than I do!

BOGG:

I think I’ve let him stew long enough; I know I’ve stewed long enough. I look over toward him--but he’s not there. Worried, I start to look around, half coming to my feet, when a hand touches my shoulder, very lightly, almost hesitantly.

It’s him, and he’s completely dry-eyed. Heaven help me, he looks more like he’s worried about me! I snatch him up in one of my best bear-hugs, and he squeezes me right back. He sniffs a little and says in a very small voice, “I don’t ever want to make you have to do that again.”

Mission accomplished.

- END -