Remember Me?

I remembered being one of the first in my class to get caned for misbehaviour. Thinking hard about it, I still believe that whatever I did tipped toward the mischief end of the scales.

The long walk toward the H.O.D office was supposed to make me feel remorseful and apologetic but engulfed in teenage angst and its ever quest for boyhood rebellion, I marched with my head held high.

"This is the boy, he did this to me", wailed an almost theatric Mrs Goh. "Where is Richard? I want this boy to get a good hard spanking!", she demanded for the strongest fittest teacher that just joined the school.

Richard emerged, muscles begging to tear out from his ripping tight Polo Tee, cane in one hand. He whipped me not once, not twice, but thrice. Pleased, Mrs Goh would have clapped her hands and fluttered if not for my cold beady eyes, staring down on her. I smirked and left the office, disgusted yet proud.

Fast forward to today, I saw two familiar eyes in the distance. I could tell he still worked out. The only telling signs of aging is the shiny plate on the top of his head. "Mr Richard? Is that really you?", I quizzed in utter disbelief. 'It is me. And you are?", Richard retorted with a voice still strong and firm.

"You might not remember me. You caned me once, a good 11 years ago", came my weak attempt to flashback his memory.
"Well I can't really remember boy. I caned lotsa boys in my time!", Richard smirked while stating his achievements.