Each boy handled the news of his parents' imminent arrival differently, though all badly. Fez prayed to saints that Eric had never heard of. Kelso looked for an escape route, while Hyde swore and punched and kicked the wall. Eric feared he might cry or be sick and sat resting his head in his hands.

Fez's host parents were the first to arrive. His host mother and father rushed in, nattering in a language Eric did not know. They each hugged Fez multiple times and fussed over him until a deputy shooed them all out of the cell.

"Poor Fez," said Hyde. "He's probably only going to get one dessert tonight. Too bad."

"Yeah," chuckled Kelso. "He's got it rough."

Ten minutes later, the door opened again. This time Kelso's dad walked in.

"I am so disappointed in you, Casey-William-Thomas-Samuel-Nicholas-Susan-Michael," he announced.

"Michael, Dad. Sorry for all this. It's not my fault though! I didn't know the car was stolen. Sully gave it to me."

"No excuse! Sully is a thug! Assume everything your cousin has is stolen! Now, let's go, son!"

Kelso jumped up, quickly following his dad out.

"Good luck," he whispered to the other boys before he left.

"Well, Forman, it's been nice knowing you," Hyde said as he clapped his friend on the back and sat down next to him.

"What are you talking about?"

"I saw Edna walk in when Kelso was leaving. She'll be here any moment."

"Maybe she'll be calm and reasonable about everything. After all, it's not like we stole the car ourselves."

The boys looked each other and collapsed onto each other laughing.

"Yeah," snorted Hyde. "Maybe Red will take you out for ice cream when he comes. I'm sure he'll be a real peach about it all!"

"Yep, and Edna won't kick your butt through the parking lot, while she's driving and all the way back to your room! No way, she'll be real cool."

The boys continued belly laughing and wiping tears from their eyes. Hyde was struggling to speak, "And Red won't drag you to the garage to tattoo his name on your butt with his belt."

A gruff voice roared, "Not a bad idea. Of course, that would be Reginald Albert Forman."

Both boys jumped to their feet, immediately sober. They had not heard the door open and were shocked to see Red and Edna staring at them.

Red stepped forward. "Are you dumbasses high?"

Both boys responded instantly with "No, sir!" and "No way, man."

"You boys don't seem too worried about this latest stupid mess you're in."

Eric stammered, "We care! …We really care. Please don't kill me, Dad."

Hyde stood quietly watching Edna. Red was no longer his concern. His mother stared at him dangerously.

"Steven, move your ass. I've got shit to do tonight."

"Like a poker game to lose," Hyde replied snarkily. Everyone looked at the boy, shocked at his blatant disrespect.

"Boy, I will knock the curl out of your hair if you say one more word!" his mother threatened.

"Steven, I thought you had more sense than to speak to your mother that way. If Eric had said that—"

"I wouldn't have," interrupted his son.

"Don't interrupt, dumb ass. Well, if Eric had said that he wouldn't be able to walk or sit properly for the rest of his life."

Edna grabbed her son's arm and jerked him toward the door. As they left, Eric could clearly hear her telling the boy exactly what she was planning on doing when they got home. The redhead could imagine the sour expression on his friend's face. He hoped that Hyde would keep his mouth shut and not dig a deeper grave.

"Do I need to drag you out too?" he heard his father ask.

Glancing up, Eric made eye contact with his red-faced father and said, "No, sir." He walked toward the door, dreading everything that would happen next.

Sooner than he hoped, they were pulling into the driveway. His father didn't say a word, but walked directly to the garage. Eric followed nervously.

Red took his belt off, so the boy turned to bend over the worktable.

"No," ordered his dad. "Drop your pants."

Eric blanched, but knew he must obey. With shaking fingers he unbuttoned his jeans and unzipped the zipper. He hooked his thumbs under the waistband and tugged his pants to his knees. Then he bent over, resting his head on his forearm.

Every time Eric found himself in this position, his anger was unrelenting. He desperately wanted to ask his father certain questions: Who do you think you are to punish me like this? I'm 16, for God's sake! Other people my age don't get spanked still! [Eric knew this wasn't true of his friends, but he imagined it wasn't true for everyone else his age.] Laurie didn't get spanked when she was 16. Why are you so unfair?

The boy knew that he would never voice any of his thoughts to his father.

The belt whooshed through the air and smacked the boy's backside, causing him to gasp. The second whack landed just below the first. Each strike his father delivered was directly beneath where the previous one had landed. The burning and rapidity of this spanking made being stoic impossible. Eric cried quietly throughout the ordeal. After 15 licks, his father finally stopped and put his belt back on.

"Eric, you will not get in trouble with the law. Ever. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Now, go to bed and don't get up until I tell you."

"Yes, sir."

Red put his hand on Eric's shoulder and gave him a quick squeeze. The boy was comforted by his father's unexpected and somewhat tender gesture.

Eric looked up at his dad and said, "Sorry, Dad. I'll stay out of trouble. I promise."

"I know you'll try."