***Unwanted Dog finished 3rd in the July 2017 Book of the Month Contest. Thanks to all FanStorians who made this possible!***


Hermitage Hall enjoyed a squeaky clean reputation in Nashville as the finest facility of its kind for wayward boys. However, appearances deceive, perspectives betray, and false fronts mask realities. Boys were required to toe a mighty thin line. Meted out consequences for inappropriate behaviors were far too often swift and severe. Random atrocities remained unreported, probably to this day.

I was eating. No, I guess I should more correctly state I was playing with my breakfast ... again. That was what Hermitage Hall referred to the half-cooked, runny, imitation eggs, and cold sausage patties, they served us that morning. There was no juice, no fruit, no toast. Although I did not have very much nourishment the day before, I sure wasn't going to eat that putridity either.

Lost in the middle of my daydream, an announcement broadcasted over the PA system loud enough for a deaf elephant to hear. The declaration summoned me to King Tubbo's office. That, in itself, was never good news.

Several boys who heard the pronouncement whispered among themselves, "Umm! You're in BIG trouble, Brett!" I heard a couple of them say. The stress was on the word "BIG". What else was new? It seemed I always remained in hot water at Hermitage Hall over something or another. All of us knew being directed to King Tubbo's office was to be avoided at all costs. That dungeon remained a place we did not want to be found.

I shoved my chair away from the table where I sat and stood up. I had a real good idea what this was all about. It was time to pay the fiddler. I figured a real stern lecture was in order. Who at Hermitage Hall did not know about my running away, or that I had been brought back to the facility by the local law enforcement authorities earlier that morning? News travels fast in a small town, or so they say.

"Let King Tubbo ramble on. That's all he ever does. It means nothing," I reassured myself as I walked down the hallway that led from the dining room towards my destination.

I crossed the foyer of Hermitage Hall and entered the Superintendent's Office without knocking. He sat behind his big, expensive and expansive, desk awaiting my arrival. However, I did not see any balloons or cakes welcoming me back, so I figured there would be no party. His two cronies, Jonathan Tobias and Edmund Musky, were seated in chairs along the near wall. They truly were three of a kind.

"Sit down, Brett, while you still can," King Tubbo instructed me to do.

Initially, I suppose I did not fully grasp the concept of his remark. I would soon completely understand his abounding implication. Without acknowledging the henchmen, I seated myself in a black high-backed chair positioned across from where he was perched at his desk. My eyes immediately fell on the Reform School strap King Tubbo kept hanging on the wall beside his chair. It was a mean looking contraption.

Possessing a wooden hickory handle for easier gripping, the strop measured 18 inches long and was 2 inches wide. Although not a previous recipient of the implement, I'd seen it hanging there before on preceding encounters with King Tubbo. I knew the leather was a constant reminder to us boys of impending doom. I was aware others had tasted it's unflavored zing.

His grandiose Summer Solstice Ball accomplished the night before, King Tubbo retained a smirk on his face. That was very typical of him. Quickly, I noted his sour demeanor. I waited for the hammer to drop. It did not take long before he wrathfully roared, "You chose to embarrass me in front of my invited guests!"

Before I could respond he howled, "Did you really think your running away from Hermitage Hall, especially on such an auspicious occasion as the day of my Summer Solstice Ball, would go unnoticed you insignificant piss ant!"

King Tubbo halted to catch his breath. He thundered, "It's time you learn there are consequences for breaking the rules here. Ever since you arrived at Hermitage Hall all you have done is whatever suited your own desires. That is going to change!"

I stared back at King Tubbo. He foamed at the mouth as he continued screaming, "From now on, you will not be able to pull your pants down to go pee without someone standing over you and monitoring your every little movement! Do you understand me?"

Finally, I heard enough. In total incredulity of King Tubbo's tirade, I stared him straight in his still bloodshot eyes and snarled back, "Bite me, Tubbo!" The vulgarity ignited his fire more, but I did not care. This was the first time I called McClellan "Tubbo" to his repulsive mug.

Immediately jumping out of his chair, King Tubbo ferociously implored, "What did you just say to me, you pathetic piece of crap!"

Jerking his reform school strap off the wall, King Tubbo tested me to see if I would quake in my Muckluck slippers. He enjoyed intimidating boys and derived self-importance, as well as a sense of power, from these episodes. I was not afraid of him.

"Stand up and remove your shirt!" he demanded.

I observed the strop in King Tubbo's hand and knew he intended to soundly chastise me. He regularly perpetrated his handiwork on select victims. There was no way I wanted to feel the biting sting of his strap, but I did not see any available exits. I was in this quandary all the way up to my ears. There was no reason to hold back now and I did not.

"Not a snowball's chance!" I stalwartly replied.

When word of my lambasting spread around Hermitage Hall, as these occasions always did, other boys would whisper and secretly talk about the incident. I myself gossiped about others. All of them wondered when their turn would arrive. While Doomsday settled over my universe I thought to myself, "I may lose this battle, however, I will ultimately win this war."

I could either cower in the corner or fight back. I knew that courage did not always bellow. Sometimes it can best be expressed in how something is said. "Make me!" I adamantly defied him.

"Most boys in your position are trembling by now. And, yet you, you continue to be defiant," King Tubbo replied. Then, he enjoined his accomplices, "Pick him up out of his chair and strip his shirt off him! It's time my rawhide teaches him some proper manners!"

"You can't touch me!" I recoiled as I was pounced on. Pulled out of my seat, I felt my tee shirt being pulled up over my head and my back bared.

Although I furiously struggled to free myself from the taut grip the henchmen had on me, I could not.

"Au contraire, you spineless wonder," King Tubbo apprised me, "Chapter 12, Appendix C, Subparagraph 8 of the Rules and Regulations Handbook each one of you boys are so graciously afforded upon your admittance to Hermitage Hall, specifically states that I have the authority to enforce whatever standards are required to maintain order here. That includes the imposition of institutional corporal correction when warranted."

Then he smiled as he said, "I should know, I wrote the book."

He continued his justification for the impending circumstance by saying, "Your repeated inappropriate behaviors, coupled with your continual rule breaking, now culminated by your unauthorized departure from Hermitage Hall, more than qualifies you for the infliction of said castigation." For good measure he gleefully threw in, "And, by the way, just for your own information Mister Know-it-all, nobody is going to say anything about what I do to any of you dregs of society. EVER! Simply stated, no one cares about you at all. No one. Do you hear me? No one!"

I furiously struggled to free myself from the henchmen.

King Tubbo turned to his associates and charged them to, "Hold him down tightly. I'm going to enjoy every bit of this!"

Refusing to budge, I resisted the best I could.

(To be Continued)