Disclaimer: I don't own the radio program Adventures in Odyssey.

A/N: My guess is that this story was first completed in the summer of '08, when the world was young. Whittaker/Money-centered. Looking back, I'm not sure why I wrote this, because Mr. Whittaker is actually far from being my favorite character. But I always liked Monty. Oh, and I took creative license with his name, too. The horizontal lines represent passage of time.

Rated K+ for corporal punishment.

Crime and Punishment

"Is it that time already?" Mr. Whittaker muttered in disbelief while he left his office and made his way downstairs. Monty must have completed his work by now. He pushed open the door to the store room and called, "Monty? If you're finished, you can—" He stopped when he saw the unswept floor and the old boxes still stacked in the corner. "Monty?" he called again. "Monty! Where are you?" His heart began to beat faster as he wondered where on earth his grandson had gone. He took a deep breath and tried to think rationally. Maybe someone had seen him leave. Let him be all right, Lord, he prayed.

"Connie?" he called as he approached the counter. "Have you seen Monty anywhere?"

"Sorry, Mr. Whittaker, I haven't," she replied. Once she had looked up from the glass she was wiping and caught the look on his face, she added with concern, "Why? Is something wrong?"

"I've seen him, Mr. Whittaker!" Jimmy offered from the corner where he was sweeping. "I gave him the money, just like you wanted."

"Just like I wanted?" Whit repeated blankly.

"Sure. He said that you gave him permission to take five dollars and go to the movies. So I took it out of the cash register like you wanted."

Whit's eyes narrowed. "I think I know what's going on here. Monty lied to you, Jimmy—I didn't give him permission to take free money from the register. He was supposed to work for it first!"

"Oh . . . gee, I'm really sorry, Mr. Whittaker," Jimmy apologized anxiously.

"It's all right; it's not your fault," Whit assured him. "However," he continued grimly, "I know a certain little boy who's going to regret what he did today!"

He strode out the door, calling over his shoulder as he went, "Connie? Could you take care of closing up today?"

"Sure, Whit," she answered. As the door swung shut behind him, Jimmy remarked fervently,

"I'd hate to be in Monty's shoes right now."

"You can say that again," Connie replied, nodding in agreement.


Mr. Whittaker walked the three blocks to the theater in record time. One of the movies must have just ended; people were streaming leisurely out of the exits. He could just make out his grandson among them, crumpling up an empty popcorn bag and tossing it into the trash can. His anger at the wayward boy was almost snuffed out at the relief of finding him safe and sound— almost, but not quite.

"Montgomery Jerry Whittaker-Dowd!" he boomed. His grandson jumped several inches into the air and whirled around with a caught-with-his-hand-in-the-cookie-jar expression on his face. Mr. Whittaker folded his arms over his chest and ordered, "Come here."

Monty came as warily as a mouse in a roomful of cats. When he stopped in front of Mr. Whittaker, he put on an innocent smile.

"Did I do something wrong, Grandpa?"

"I think you know very well what you did that was wrong," Mr. Whittaker said sternly. "But we'll settle this at home. Come on." He snatched his grandson's hand and marched him down the sidewalk.


"Go on up to your room, Monty," Whit said firmly when they got home. "I'll be up in a minute." He struggled to quench a hot flash of anger as his grandson stomped up the stairs and went into his room, slamming the door behind him.

"Oh, Lord, help me," Mr. Whittaker murmured. "Give me the wisdom to deal with this boy as You deal with Your children. Help me not to do it in anger, but in love." He smiled in satisfaction as the expected calm settled inside him, and climbed the stairs.

Monty glared mutinously at him as he stepped into the room and closed the door.

"Now, Monty, remember what I told you yesterday—that there are rules in this house, and that if those rules were disobeyed, there would be consequences?"

"What rules did I break?" Monty demanded to know. Mr. Whittaker frowned at him; he was certain that his grandson was merely stalling. Still, he was glad of Monty's question, for he had never approved of punishing a child without first telling him what he'd done to deserve it.

"You broke your word when you told me that you were going to clean the store room, and didn't clean it. You lied to Jimmy about having permission to take the five dollars, and you stole money from the cash register."

"I didn't steal it!" Monty protested hotly. "Jimmy gave it to me!"

"Stealing in a roundabout way is still stealing," Mr. Whittaker told him calmly. "You had no business taking that money when I had told you to earn it first. To top it all off, you went to the theater without telling me first. I had no idea where you'd gone, and I was worried about you." He looked his grandson in the eye. "There—does that about cover your disobedience today?"

"Fine, ground me, then," Monty muttered, dropping his gaze to the floor. "There's nothing to do in Odyssey, anyway."

Mr. Whittaker sighed. Monty always wanted to have his own way, right down to choosing his own punishment. He was about to discover that he wasn't in control this time.

"I'm not going to ground you, Monty."

"You're not?" Monty seemed confused. Apparently he had run out of ideas for punishment.

"No. I'm going to spank you."

Monty's eyes widened in a mixture of anger and fear. "You can't spank me! If my mom found out, she'd—"

"She'd what, Monty?" Whit challenged him. "Your mother put you in my care this summer, and she expects me to take care of you the same way I used to take care of her. Don't you think she got her fair share of spankings when she was your age?"

"You spanked Mom?" Monty asked in surprise.

"Yes, I did. And I'll spank you, too, if you give me good reason to." Monty's eyes darted back and forth by minute increments as they studied Mr. Whittaker's face. Whit could tell that he was trying to ascertain whether or not his grandfather was really going to subject him to corporal punishment.

"Come here," Mr. Whittaker ordered him for the second time that day, and Monty obeyed, albeit nervously and reluctantly. As he had done with his own children long ago, Mr. Whittaker sat down on the bed, picked his grandson up, and laid the boy across his knees. This experience would be no more pleasant for him than it was for Monty, but he had long ago learned the truth of Proverbs 23:13: "Do not withhold discipline from a child; if you punish him with the rod, he will not die." Mr. Whittaker strove in everything he did to be obedient to God's Word, even though sometimes it was hard; for he knew that, just as he laid down rules for Monty, God also laid down commandments for His people—commandments that were for their good.

The End