Writer's Workshop: Anything But That!

It’s time for Mama Kat’s Writing Workshop again. This week’s prompt? Describe the most creative punishment you ever ever experienced.

I was a good kid…most of the time. But I had my moments. I fought with my brother, talked back to my parents—all the usual stuff. On one particularly memorable occasion, my brother and I took hot wheels cars off someone’s porch.

That resulted in one hell of a spanking.

Yep, back in the day, it was still okay to spank. I also spent my fair share of time staring at the wall in the kitchen, stuck in the dreaded time out. I even got grounded a time or three (hundred).

Still, all those punishments were quickly recovered from. Sure, I cried when I got spanked. Pouted when I got put in the corner. Threw a hissy fit when I got grounded. But through it all, there was one thing I could count on to comfort me.

My books.

To say I was a bookworm would be an understatement. I always had a book in my hand. I ate with a book. Slept with a book. Even walked around with my nose firmly stuck in a book (not a real good idea when you’re as big of a klutz as I am).

So what did my parents do when they really wanted to punish me? They took away my books.

I was in fifth grade. I hated my teacher and was doing really poorly in school—culminating in my first  “D” on a report card. My parents were beyond frustrated with me.

So they forbade me to read until my grades improved. They confiscated my library card, packed up the books in my room and even denied me access to the boring old books in our bookcases.

It was torture.

I don’t remember exactly how long it lasted (I’d call my mom and ask, but she always seems vaguely embarrassed when it comes up). But I’m sure I was a pain in the ass for the entire length of the punishment.

I didn’t know what to do with myself. I had far too much spare time on my hands. Time that was usually spent in the alternate (sometimes preferred) universe that books opened up for me.

Did I mention it was torture?

But it worked. I did my homework. My attitude improved. And soon, so did my grades. When next I brought home a report card, there was nary a D in sight.

Thankfully, my books were returned. I welcomed them like long lost friends—there may even have been a few tears.

And you know what? I never got a bad grade again. From then on, my report cards were chock full of A’s and B’s. I wasn’t about to risk losing my best friends again.

So I guess it was the most effective punishment my parents ever came up with. Here’s hoping I can be half as creative when the situation arises (and I’m sure it will).

Now head on over to Mama Kat’s and see what the other entrants have to say!

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