Rump Roast For Turkey Day

It was a grey, not quite miserable day, as late November often is in Texas. Little Jackie, in blue jeans, a green and white striped t-shirt, and his favorite, padded, dark blue windbreaker, sat on his bike, rolling it back and forth, wallowing in his boredom.

That's not to say that the day hadn't had its good side. Thanksgiving dinner had been wonderful, and his mom had kept Ralph from trying to make him eat anything gross. Mom had even let him have a slice of pie and a piece of cake, so the boy had been stuffed for a while. After cleaning the kitchen and stepping outside for cigarettes, his mom and grandma had come back in and played Yahtzee with him for a while, so it had been a great day. For a while.

Now, the football game was on, so his grandparents had gone home, and Mom didn’t have time for him. That wouldn’t have been a big deal, but his best friends, James and David, were out of town for the day. His little brother, Matt, had gone to see his mom’s parents, and wouldn’t be back until Sunday. Even Freddie and Raymond had gone to their grandparents. There was still Allen, but he lived all the way over by the school, and Mom had told him he couldn’t go because he might disturb their Thanksgiving dinner.

The boy sighed.

Grandma had given him two dollars for some comic books, but the boy wanted to save it for the Book Nook. He’d had good luck finding soda bottles the previous weekend and had been able to afford all the new super-hero comics that week. When he’d stopped at the Book Nook, they’d had a big stack of older comics, stuff he’d never seen before. He’d only had enough change left to buy two of them, but there’d been dozens he wanted. With the bottles he’d found the night before and what Grandma had given him, he could afford about fifteen of them and still have enough money leftover to stop at the drug store for a cherry coke. The only problem was, he was bored now, and he kept thinking of the comics at 7-11 that he sort of wanted. He didn’t want Sgt. Rock, House of Mystery, or Two-Gun Kid nearly as bad as he did the old ones he’d seen at the used bookstore, but those were ones he could get now.

He sighed again, wondering if he could hit Mom up for a little money before she left for work in the morning, when he heard a sound, nearly as sweet as the song of an angelic chorus.



There was no mistaking the distinctive sound of boys chattering. As soon as I heard it, I rolled my bike forward, trying to figure out where it was coming from. It wasn’t hard, since the Guthrey home was only two houses down from us.

Tony Guthrey was a nice kid, but not really a friend of mine. He was only a second grader and had just turned eight a few weeks ago. I’d gone to his birthday party and had a good time. He and I played together, but it wasn’t like going to a friend’s house. When Tony and I played, it was usually because both of us were playing keep away or something at Freddie’s. I got along with him and he was a nice kid (and cute as heck, with his golden brown hair, big blue eyes, round cheeks, and firm, boyish build, though I didn’t really notice things like that yet), but we didn’t have a lot of interests in common and we just weren’t really friends.

What really drew my attention was the other two boys throwing the ball with him. Almost as soon as I recognized the tallest of the three, he saw me. "Jackie?"

I pushed my bike off and rode down to him. "Hey, David. What are you doing here?"

"This is my uncle’s place. We’re had Thanksgiving here this year," he explained to me.

For some reason, I’d never made the connection between Tony Guthrey, the boy who lived on the same street as I did, and David Guthrey, the boy who sat a couple of desks away at school. David had much darker hair than Tony, as dark brown as mine, and he looked much leaner, especially since he had well-defined cheek bones, as opposed to Tony’s round, full face. Still, with the two of them standing next to each other, it was easy to find a lot of similarities. While their general facial structure was different, they both had the same square chin, the same long, sharp nose, and the same, tiny ears. The third boy with them, slightly shorter than Tony, as dark as David, but with Tony’s round cheeks, must be Brian, the seven-year old little brother he’d complained about at times.

David and I weren’t exactly friends, but, like with his cousin, we got along well. The problem was, like most of the kids in my class, David had been in that same school his entire life, while I’d been to three different schools in four grades. The only kids I knew were James Howell and David Bartel, both of whom I’d met over the summer. I’d quickly become friends with Allen, since he and I were the only new kids in class that year. With those three as regular friends, and David having his own group, we just didn’t interact that much. However, since we were right next to each other, we often ended up walking to recess or lunch together and talked a bit. Sometimes, when someone was out sick, we ended up messing around together at recess. I guess you could say we were friends, but not best friends.

The four of us passed the ball around for a while, then David and I started playing keep away with the younger guys. They started getting upset and noisy, which brought a parent out who told us to quit picking on them. I stayed down there for a while until it started getting dark, and Mrs. Guthrey (Tony’s mom, not David’s), told the boys to come inside. David asked if I could come too, and she said it was no problem. He invited me, suggesting we could play cards or checkers or something. I was happy to accept but knew the dangers of going in someplace, so quickly ran home to ask Mom if it was okay. As I recall, her response was ‘No. NO. NO! GET HIM!!!’ before some guy got tackled, then she looked up at me and said, ‘What? Oh, sure. We’re just going to have leftovers, but don’t stay over there too long.’ Shrugging off the insanity of football fever, I was quickly back at Tony’s.

I was quickly invited inside, and we went to Tony’s room, since his adults were acting about the same as mine were. The Mr. and Mrs. Guthrey that I knew looked up long enough to say hello and introduce me to David’s parents, and dismissed me as the players onscreen lined up for another snap.

David and I talked for a bit, deciding what we wanted to do. Since it wasn’t either of our houses, we had limited options and decided to play some checkers. Tony and Brian really wanted to do something with us, though, so we finally agreed to play a round of Uno with them in the dining room. We had a good time and ended up playing several, but David and I wanted to get away from them after a while, and we ended up in Tony’s room, spread out on the floor, playing checkers.

Even as we were playing Uno, and especially once we shook off the little kids, David and I discovered that, while he wasn’t into comics, we did have other interests in common.

"C’mon, David. You can’t really believe that The Mummy’s better than Dracula."

It was an interesting discussion, and one I actually enjoyed more than the checkers game. We’d just agreed that Vincent Price was probably the all-time best horror movie actor when the little guys came in. It turns out that Uno isn’t nearly as fun with just two people, so ‘please play with us.’

I didn’t have a problem with the idea, but David was apparently at his tolerance level for little brothers for the day. He was ignoring Brian, and I was thinking it was time to go home. Maybe David could come over there for a while.

Like most little brothers, ignoring him seemed to be the worst thing you could do to Brian. He kept trying to get David to talk to him, then began tapping him on the shoulder. "C’mon, David." Tap. "Play with us David." Tap. "Please." Tap. The taps weren’t exactly gentle.

Now, I loved Matt, and he and I were friends, but Brian was getting on my nerves. I had the feeling that David was just about to boil, but I was starting to get frustrated too. I know it was Tony’s room, but we weren’t taking up that much space. Why couldn’t they go do something else?

Tony had been watching all this and egging Brian on. I’d also noticed that Tony was sneaking checkers and hiding them, but only the ones that were already off the board, so it didn’t really matter. Brian finally did get David’s attention. David had just moved a piece, and Brian reached down and took one of his men off the board.

"Give it back."

"No. Play cards with us."

WHAP. The punch David put on his little brother’s arm wasn’t really hard, but it was harder than the taps Brian had been doing. "I said, give it back."

Brian just glared. Tony had this weird smile on his face, and, while David and Brian were glaring at each other, Tony reached over and took one of the David’s men. This time I grabbed his wrist and squeezed it. After a second, he yelped, then let go. I put the piece back where it went. He was giving me a hurt look, like he couldn’t believe I wasn’t enjoying the comedy in them screwing with our game.

After a second, Brian hit David, and it sounded harder than it had when David had hit him. After glaring at me for a second, as soon as Tony saw the punch, he picked up the board and flipped it, so pieces went everywhere. David reared back and knocked the heck out of Brian, and I gave Tony a hard push, dumping him on his rear end. Both of the younger boys started screaming.

Both David and I started trying to shut them up, but they weren’t having any of it. They definitely weren’t howling like they were hurt, they were offended, and they wanted everybody to know it. Mostly though, like little brothers always seem to do, they wanted the parents to know it. And they did. It must have been during a break in the football game, because it didn’t take twenty seconds before both Mr. Guthreys were charging into the room.

"What the hell is going on here?"

Showing an amazing recovery from the wounds that had had them screaming for mercy just moments before, Tony and Brian started spewing out a warped version that should have had the adults looking around the room for a bull. David and I tried to tell what had really happened—what pests the little brats had been and how we’d just been defending ourselves, but Tony’s Mr. Guthrey hushed us. Of course, I already knew that David’s dad was Tony’s dad’s big brother, so of course he was going to be unfair to us. Going by the look on David’s face, he didn’t expect much better from his own father, though.

By the time the little guys got through with their lies, both fathers were glaring daggers at us. I wasn’t actually bleeding, but I was squirming pretty hard by the time one of the Mr. Gs asked for our version. We tried to explain how we’d been minding our own business when the little kids came in, interrupting and harassing us, messing with our game, and then hitting us—and being sure to point out that they’d hit us first. I knew it didn’t matter, though. I could tell by the fathers’ looks that they felt the same way my mom and step-dad did. If you’re older, you have to be the little kid’s punching bag. I was nervous because I knew that look didn’t bode well, and it seemed obvious that David used the same oracle I did. To be honest, I was also a little embarrassed because it was Tony’s room and I did like him and felt a little bad about it, even if he had been bugging us, and he’d started it.

When we’d both had our shots and had both stumbled to a halt, the two parents stepped aside and talked from the corner of their mouths, still keeping a close eye on the four of us. After a minute, they stepped back.

"It sounds like what happened," Tony’s dad said, then broke into a description of the events that was probably closer to reality than any of what the four of us had said. He finally concluded by looking at Tony. "Is that right?"

Tony nodded, especially since his dad had left out just enough that it made it sound like David and I had been bullying the younger kids. No one asked my opinion, though, and David looked as though his death sentence had just been pronounced.

Then David’s Mr. Guthrey addressed me. "Jackie, I think you know as well as David that you shouldn’t have been hitting Tony or Brian. There’s no excuse for it since you’re bigger than they are. David’s going to get a good spanking. Do you want to go home, and I’ll call your parents and tell them what happened, or do you want to just get it with David?"

If I’d been a little older and a lot dumber, I probably would have pointed out that I didn’t actually want either choice, but thanks for trying. Being nine and having a relatively good sense of self-preservation, I tried to be very polite in my answer. "With David," I managed to squeak.

It hadn’t been a hard choice. If he called my house, I’d have to put up with the same questioning and lecture again, plus have to listen to Mom gripe about ‘embarrassing’ her in front of the neighbors. I guess I should have asked what David was going to get, but I didn’t think it could be much worse than Ralph’s belt snapping down across my bared bottom, and at least Mr. Guthrey didn’t know about all my other screw-ups, so I wouldn’t have to be reminded of those.

"All right," Mr. G said calmly, "you two need to get your jeans down."

I’d been expecting it. The only kid I could think of that I believed got to keep his pants on for spankings was the best-behaved kid I’d ever known. Still, expecting it or not, it was embarrassing to undo my fly in front of a whole group of guys, most of whom I barely knew, and most of whom were not only not undressing but watching me do it.

I guess David was a bit more used to it, or maybe he’d just been in this position with uncle and cousin before, but his zipper came down and he pushed his jeans down past his calves, then stood up, pulling his sweatshirt above his lean belly. By the time his shirt was up, my fly was open, so I reluctantly did the same thing.

David was watching me as I’d watched him. As soon as both of us were practically left in just our briefs, he turned towards his father, letting me see his round little rear, hugged by the white cotton of his Sears briefs. I quietly sighed. The double-seat on the back of them wouldn’t be much protection, but I wished I was wearing mine, instead of my Fruit of the Looms, with their thin, single-ply back. Not much protection is still better than none. Turns out I hadn’t needed to worry.

"Brian, Tony," Tony’s dad said, taking over and showing that he and his big brother had agreed on what was going to happen, "since the big boys were picking on you, why don’t you pull their undies down for them?"

I tensed, looking up at ceiling, silently pleading for help, and wondering if Ralph’s belt would really be that bad after all. From the corner of my eye, I could see David squirming. I thought about begging, but David was keeping quiet, so I thought that might be the best course. When I felt hands at my waist, I looked down to see Brian gripping my briefs at the waist and slowly rolling them down my hips, where they rolled up around my knees. Except that Tony had pulled David’s briefs down by the leg bands, so they weren’t rolled up, he was in the same position.

Even with the threat of an upcoming spanking, my eyes drank in the sight of David. The previous spring, when we’d still been living by the golf course, in Ralph’s trailer, I’d been able to play naked games with my old best friends, Van and Aaron, on a very regular basis. Since we’d moved to the new house in June, I’d only seen my cousin Evan naked a couple of times (and he didn’t play those kind of games) and had gotten to play a few games with Ralph’s nephew, Darren, for one short weekend visit at the end of summer.

I knew how boys looked when they got older, but I think David was further from that than I was. At the very least, his peter and sack were both a little smaller than mine. It didn’t matter, though; I wished we could be this way without all the witnesses around so we could compare with each other, and I could show him how good it felt to hug when your clothes were like this.

We weren’t by ourselves, however, and I didn’t have much time to think about it before David’s dad caught my attention. "There is no excuse for you two to be hitting the younger kids. You’re bigger than them. I understand how you feel. I used to get spanked for hitting Greg when we were kids. Still, that just means I know that there’s a better way for you to handle it."

Tony and Brian were smiling like a toothpaste commercial, looking at the two of us, nearly naked and being lectured.

"On the other hand," Tony’s Dad (Greg?), picked up the thread, "if these two were in here, playing by themselves, there’s no reason you two should have disturbed them. If there’s no excuse for them to hit you, there’s no excuse for you to hit them or to be pestering them when they ask you to leave them alone. Get your pants and shorts down."

Now the real whining and protests began, but cut off at a quick threat of worse to come. When David had been undoing his pants, I’d been too wrapped up in my own concerns to really enjoy it, and when our briefs had been taken down, it had been worse. Now, even though I was standing nearly naked with an impending spanking to dread, I watched avidly as to two younger boys prepared themselves to join David and me.

Brian was of the ‘get it over with’ school. He unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, grabbed pants and briefs in each hand, then shoved so they were around his ankles, before standing and lifting his shirt. Tony, on the other hand, was moving so slowly his button was barely unsnapped by the time Brian’s clothes hit his knees. He started to slowly slide the zipper down, pausing to beg mercy again. Maybe he wasn’t used to undressing in front of a group of guys, but his jeans quickly hit the ground when his dad offered to use the paddle rather than his hand. Even as Tony sobbed and started to slide his briefs down, I sighed, relieved at the idea of just a hand spanking. Even a paddle would probably have been better than the belt. By the looks on their faces, the other boys felt that hand was going to be bad enough.

Tony had just turned eight, while Brian wasn’t quite there yet, but with David and me both being nine, there just wasn’t much of a difference among the four of us as we stood there, listening to a bit of last minute lecture. I was the tallest, and David was a bit taller than Tony, but with what interested me, there really didn’t even seem to be much length difference. As a matter of fact, I thought Tony might be a bit longer than David, though I didn’t know then that soft-size didn’t really matter.

The lecture ended all too quickly though, snapping my attention back to what was about to be my overwhelming concern for a bit. "C’mere, David," his dad said, taking a seat on the bed. Personally, I was relieved. I’d not been spanked with other boys often, but already knew I hated waiting for my turn. If David and I got to go first, then watch the little pests get it, so much the better.

David’s dad was obviously experienced at spanking and wasted no time getting started. David shuffled, slowly and reluctantly, a few steps forward, putting him within striking distance. His father suddenly leaned forward, grabbed him by the lower arm, and gave him a jerk. David stumbled forward and his dad grabbed him around the middle, practically tossed him into the air, then guided him into place over his lap as the boy fell. David grunted a bit when he landed, but it might have been as much because of the firm grip his dad took as the landing.

With no more warning than that, David’s dad began the spanking, acting like he was trying to play the drum solo from "Wipeout" with one hand. His hand was a blur, and I was suddenly less sanguine about my upcoming spanking than I had been. David didn’t cry at first, but he was kicking, squirming, and yelping from nearly the first swat. The crying wasn’t long in coming.

I don’t think you could say that Mr. G had any technique. It was just a relentless assault on the poor guy’s bottom. It seemed like the spanks were landing so quickly that all I could see was a blur. Even David’s bottom, which I would have enjoyed studying under other circumstances, seemed to be mostly a blur of color, obscured by his father’s hand as it went from white to crimson. The only pause in the onslaught was when Mr. G had to take a few seconds to capture David’s straying hand and secure it against his hip.

I doubt the entire thing lasted a minute, but it didn’t need to. David was howling before it was half over, and bawling before his father paused, hand in the air, and seemed to examine the boy’s lean little bottom, before deciding there were no white spots left. During Mr. G’s examination, I risked a glance at Tony and Brian. Based on the looks on their faces, this wasn’t an unusual spanking. Based on the tears slowly tracking down their cheeks, they were expecting the same.

As soon as David was freed from his father’s lap, he began jumping around, half tripping over his pants, as he tried to massage the feeling from his flaming bottom. As soon as David cleared the area, I took a half-step forward, just wanting to get my own turn over. I was a bit bemused when Mr. G stood up. I was unhappy when Tony’s dad sat down, since I certainly didn’t like the idea of a fresh spanker taking me on. And I was a little ticked when Greg called his other nephew over to him.

Brian didn’t approach with any more urgency than David had, but it quickly became obvious how the elder Guthrey brothers had been disciplined. Tony’s Dad used almost the exact same technique his brother had, and a glance at Tony showed he wasn’t at all surprised. The only difference was that Tony’s dad secured Brian’s hand before the spanking started. Before looking back to the action, I glanced at David’s dad. He seemed fairly nonchalant about watching his brother spanking his younger son; a nonchalance I wasn’t able to duplicate, since my raised t-shirt clearly exposed my interest in the scene. No one else seemed to pay it any mind, though; and I was too young to be embarrassed by it. The only nice thing to notice about David’s dad was that he was at least waving his hand a bit, like he’d caught a ball thrown harder than he’d expected. Maybe if their hands stung enough, I’d get off easy.

Brian’s uncle seemed to spank no less thoroughly than his dad did. Though the spanking might have been a few seconds shorter, it was still plenty hard enough, and I think Brian’s reactions were even stronger than David’s had been. I did notice that Brian was kicking so hard and so wildly that his legs opened enough to expose his little hole. He seemed too wrapped up in other concerns to even notice it, much less be embarrassed by it.

A minute later, Brian was back on his feet and dancing just as enthusiastically as his brother had; maybe more, since his uncle had to grab him to keep him from falling on his face. David was still rubbing his abused rear but had stopped dancing at some point during Brian’s trip over the lap.

Guessing that the older of the two brothers was spanking the older two boys, I stepped forward again when Tony stood up, but was disappointed again, when David’s dad grabbed Tony and just picked him up, stepping back over to the bed. I was totally disgusted that I was not only going to be the last one to get spanked, but that David had gone first. How unfair!

Tony’s hand was secured against his own waist, and his uncle’s hand was up in the air, but Tony’s dad stopped his brother for a second, to add, "I’m very disappointed in you, Tony. The way you and Brian treated David and Jackie is not only unacceptable, but you were doing the same thing you always complain about your little sister doing. I’m have tempted to have Uncle Don use the paddle on you. Do you understand?"

Tony’s whimper might have been meant as a yes. That’s how his uncle must have taken it, because that whimper announced the start of Tony’s session. It was just as rapid fire as the others had been. Tony was fighting just as hard and crying just as loudly as his cousins had. It’s too bad his uncle spanked so fast, though. Tony wasn’t quite as lean as David and Brian, and that brief lecture had given me a good look at his round, full bottom. I didn’t understand why, but I really wished I’d been able to fully appreciate it as it turned crimson. As it was, it seemed that, almost before it started, a loudly bawling Tony was set back on his feet to demonstrate his own interpretation of the fire dance.

David wasn’t crying loud, but he was still crying. Brian, on the other hand, was still crying nearly as loudly as Tony. Between the three of them, the noise was unbelievable. The only good thing about it was, maybe it’d cover the noise I’d soon be adding to the mix.

I knew what was coming, and this time I was right. As David’s dad stood up from the bed, Tony’s dad took his place, pulling me after him. Being the biggest boy there, I wasn’t quite tossed into the air, but I did find myself in that vulnerable position much more quickly than I would have preferred.

I was used to Ralph’s belt slowly taking the hide off my bottom, one strip at a time. The pain would peak and then, just as it began to fade, another stripe would be added. This was totally different. It wasn’t nearly as bad as a strapping, but a strapping would be ten or twelve straps given over a couple of minutes—not dozens of swats landing in seconds— and the pain was of an entirely different nature. I don’t think I yelled or cried as loudly as the other boys had, but I was still crying loud and hard before Mr. G put me back on my feet; and if I didn’t dance, I was still rubbing just as enthusiastically as the other boys.

By the time I was recovered enough to see what was happening, David’s crying had mostly faded, and he was just sniveling a bit. Brian was still crying, but not very loudly anymore. Tony, who’d been bawling when I went over his dad’s lap, still seemed to be crying as hard as I was, and maybe a bit louder. The most distressing thing I noticed was that David’s dad was back on the bed, while Tony’s dad was standing behind us again.

I guess I didn’t need to be worried, though. No one was paying attention to me. Instead, Mr. G reached out and took his son’s arm. David jerked in surprise.

"David, I want you to know that I’m very disappointed in you. I understand that Brian and Tony were messing with you and Jackie, but we’ve talked about the right way to handle that before; haven’t we?"

"Yes, sir," David admitted through a sob.

"What happened last time we had to talk about it?"

"You spanked me?" David suggested, as if he wasn’t sure.

"That’s right, but it obviously didn’t get through to you." David began shaking his head and assuring his father that he’d learned his lesson. Mr. G ignored his son and spoke over him, "It’s important you learn your lesson, so let’s try something extra this time."

As soon as David realized what was coming, he tried to pull away, but his dad had a firm grip on his arm. He gave the boy a jerk, and David found himself right back in position, his hand held firmly to his side.

"No, Dad. No. Please!" David cried, but his father ignored it and his continuing begging and pleading. Rubbing the boy’s bottom, Mr. G looked up at his nephew.

"Tony, where’s your paddle?"

I could see Tony’s Adam’s apple bob before he answered, not sure he wanted to admit to anything, before he knew why. Finally he said, nearly in a whisper, "In my drawer."

"Could David and I borrow it, please?"

That idea seemed much more agreeable to Tony, and he quickly shuffled over to his dresser. The paddle he procured was more like a small, wooden spatula; not like the school paddles or novelty paddles with which I was familiar. Still, it had an evil look to it, and I had no doubt it’d be effective, especially on David’s already sore bottom.

The way he used the paddle was nothing like the way we’d been spanked. The small blade of the spatula smacked slowly down, each swat seeming to be carefully selected, and aimed for spots that weren’t quite as red as the rest. There were only about fourteen swats, with the last few hitting the upper legs, but they were more than enough to have David bawling again, nearly in hysterics. When his father let him up, he was too sore to dance again, but started doing a lot of very careful rubbing.

Standing, Mr. G handed the paddle back to Tony, then addressed us all. "Jackie can go home when he wants, but we’re staying here until after the football game. If there’s anymore trouble out of here, you’ll all get the paddle. Understand me?"

Brian, Tony, and I rushed to assure him we did. Tony and I were both still sniveling a bit, but David was crying way too hard to talk right then. He did manage a nod, though.

David and Brian’s dad turned to go, but Tony’s dad stopped for just a minute. "I want you boys to remember that it took all four of you to get into trouble. I think you all four owe each other apologies. Don’t come out of here until you’re all settled down, dressed, and ready to behave.

As soon as the door was closed behind them, David collapsed onto his cousin’s bed, face down, rubbing his rear. Tony and Brian fell down beside him. I stood behind them for a while, studying the three red rumps, enjoying their different shapes, and wandering what it would be like to give someone a real spanking like that. For that matter, I would have been happy to have been able to watch it, without having to wait my turn. Finally, I decided what they were doing looked like such a good idea that I went to the end of the bed and collapsed there.

After a few minutes, all of us had had enough rubbing and began to climb to our feet. Watching the other boys, especially David, gently pull their briefs back into position was fairly amusing and enough to convince us to leave our jeans down for a bit longer.

Except for Brian, I did like the other two boys and was willing to apologize. Brian seemed to feel the same about me, but we all did apologize to each other. Brian, the youngest, started the hugging with his cousin, but it spread to all of us. I wish it could have started when our briefs were still down, but you can’t have everything.

After a while, we were all dressed and had taken a mass trip to the bathroom to wash up (and laughingly watch Brian and Tony share the bowl), and they were ready to start another game of something. Me, I felt it was probably time to go home. I needed a little time to think about those feelings that always seemed to rise in me when some other boy was getting spanked. Besides, maybe I could talk Mom into including another piece of chocolate cake with my leftovers.





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