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from: paranoid surfer
5/7/01
8:07:31 PM
Yeah, I saw that report on "Morning With Bryant Gumball And His Blonde Ho." I took the liberty of transcribing his report;
---------------------------------------- Bryant: "Jimmy Bob fidgeted at his desk, squeezing his sweaty young palms together. Mr. Johnson had called Patsy Sue to the front of the class, and got up in her face like a Marine Drill Instructor, yelling "Oh, you wanna cra? I'll give y'all somefin to cra abaout!"
She trembled and her face turned the color of a ripe tomato. She was already blubbering and crying as he grabbed her roughly by the arm and began removing her clothing. He tore away her little white blouse, grabbed the waist of her checkered skirt and with one mighty yank, it tore from her body with a loud ripping sound as the cheap K-Mart cloth gave way.
Mr. Johnson's nostrils flared and sweat began to form on his brow as he looked down upon the little girl, clad only in her white panties, as she cried and struggled to free herself from his iron grip. With a snort, he set to his work.
"Yep" he thought to himself, "this is worth all those long nights of studying in LSU, when the other boys used to break into my dorm room and make me do those awful things..." The memories of the humiliation cleared his head, unleashing the deep anger he knew was there, lurking in the back of his tortured memory. It was, after all, the reason he became a 4th Grade Teacher in the first place. "Oh, payback is a BITCH!" he chortled to himself.
Patsy Sue writhed and screeched, trying to drop to the floor, twist, scream, anything to get away from Mr. Johnson, who was even slightly scarier than usual. "Oh PLEASE Mr. Johnson!" she yelled, "I didn't know who Huey Long was! Never heard of him before. Please don't whip me, I promise to be good!"
With a start, Mr. Johnson flung the young girl roughly forward and pinned her against the blackboard. With his free hand, he pulled the plywood pillory he had made in his garage into a position in front of his desk. He tried to loosen the leather straps, but failing that he called out to Jimmy Bob "Boy! Get up here! There's work to do!"
Jimmy Bob rose to his feet quickly, then realized he couldn't walk upright because of the enormous pressure in his pants. The sight of Patsy Sue struggling had tore through his young mind to a primal ripe place he barely knew was there, even after all the sessions Mr. Johnson had introduced him to on that same plywood pillory in detention after school, where he learned the peril of sneezing in class or having bad posture.
He looked about the classroom quickly and realized nobody would even notice him, because they were all staring in fascination at the young girl's jiggling buttocks and creamy white thighs, as she fought bravely against the imminent "corporal punishment" at the monstrous hands of the dreaded Mr. Johnson.
Jimmy Bob stood meekly before Mr. Johnson, grateful not to be the victim of his rage this time. With his head down, he didn't have to look at him, and at the same time by averting his eyes upward somewhat, he could instead stare at Patsy Sue's tender young ass as she bawled and skittered on the linoleum floor in a vain attempt to free herself from the vise-like grip holding her against the blackboard.
Jimmy Bob could smell the girl-sweat emanating from her and it melted his brain. Any trace of sympathy was wiped instantly from his mind as the smell of her pure fear permeated his steaming young brain. He thought his zipper was going to break at any moment.
"BOY! THE STRAPS!" Mr. Johnson's bellow snapped Jimmy Bob's attention back to the task at hand. Grinning, he reached up to undo the top straps, and then quickly ducked to undo the bottom ones, pausing briefly to stare at Patsy Sue's white panties and soft legs from only a foot or so away. He had never been so close to an almost-naked girl before, and he felt faint.
Roughly, Mr. Johnson booted him out of the way. "Back to your desk, boy, or YOU'RE NEXT!" he yelled. Jimmy Bob scampered hunched over back to his desk. Mr. Johnson paused a moment, took a deep breath, then with surprising swiftness he partially lifted Patsy Sue by the arm and slammed her into the pillory. Putting his knee into the small of her back to hold her in place, he quickly raised one, then both of her hands and buckled the straps with deft, well-practiced technique.
As he bent to secure her kicking, wriggling feet, Mr. Johnson almost laughed to himself about how easy it was. No background check or psychological profiling, just fill out the form and you're a teacher. In Lousyanna that's all it takes, because they're going to pay you chicken feed anyway and the kids are dumber than dirt. But an ambitious young man can have some serious fun, if he's a disciplinarian. Must keep a close eye on the troublemakers, y'know.
He almost swooned as he paused for a moment. He looked up from his crouch, his eyes only inches away from his "work area." He surveyed the goose-pimpled flesh of her upper thighs, took in the clean white panties where the perfect twin mounds of her young firm butt filled them to maximum tautness, soaked in the scent of her fear, her total submission. He knew what he must do in that instant.
Without even realizing what he was doing, his hands brushed against the white cloth of her underwear, his thumbs plunged beneath the elastic of the waistband and with one tremendous pull they shredded away from her innocent body. He quickly tossed them aside and stepped back to view the scene.
Opening a drawer, he pulled out the "BOARD OF EDUCATION" (as he had named it), another creation from his garage workshop; two-and-a-half feet by four inches of dense ash, with holes drilled in regular patterns along it's length to defeat wind resistance. This thing would take out a windshield by just tapping on it. Lovingly varnished and polished to a high gleam, he could already hear in his mind the resounding thwack as it met the flesh of her clenched buttocks. "Thank God I made that pillory a little extra-wide" he thought to himself, "keeps 'em from being able to clench properly, plus everyone can see all her bits. That'll teach her."
He hefted the board and brought it down into his open palm. Though it stung horribly, the pain sharpened his mind and brought him back clearly to the job at hand. Upon the sound of that smack against his hand, he saw the pure white globes of Patsy Sue's unprotected, naked ass jiggle involuntarily, heard her gasp.
In the complete silence of the moment he intoned in his most serious voice; "Okay, Patsy Sue. Now, just to be fair, I'll ask you one more time; Huey Long said 'two cars in every garage, two whats in every pot?'"
Patsy Sue's mind raced. Something about that was so familiar, yet through her fear she couldn't think, couldn't remember. "Oh, what was it, what WAS it?" she thought. Then, suddenly it came to her. With a sense of joy and ultimate relief she yelled "CHICKENS!" She threw her head back, tossing her long blond curls down her back. She looked at the ceiling in pure relief and repeated; "Two chickens in every pot! Right?"
She twisted her head as far as she could and struggled to move her eyes all the way over to the side where she could barely see Mr. Johnson standing behind her, and see all her classmates staring at her nude, defenseless form.
"Sorry, Patsy Sue" Mr. Johnson chuckled. "Too late!"
He approached her and ran his hand down her back, cupped her trembling ass in his big meaty hand for just a moment. Then he stepped back and from the corner of her eye, she watched in disbelieving horror as he raised that awful board high, and just before it came swooshing down to batter her tender young flesh she heard him pause. Leaning close, he whispered into her ear; "Gosh, Patsy Sue. I've wanted to do this ever since I first heard Negro music!"
Bryant: "We asked the teacher, Mr. Johnson, for a interview but he declined. In a written statement he said "I hope people can learn from my mistake, for which I am truly sorry. I use all Delta equipment in my workshop, and I've never had a problem with it yet. However, I used a 1/2 horsepower Mikita drill for the 'Board of Education,' and it just couldn't handle that dense wood. I'd advise at least 3/4 horsepower. Again, I'd like to apologize for my mistake."
ANTI POPEYE X FAN CLUB
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