The Strap

            When I looked out the window on Sunday morning Queen Street was like a donut dusted with confectioners sugar and the only sign of traffic was the tracks left by a car that had done a perfect u-turn.

            I spent a few hours working on my Canadian Poetry essay, which will be due in sixteen days. I got four pages of a first draft written, so I guess I’m ahead of the game this time compared to my last two papers but then again this one might be more ambitious, plus I’m being very critical of a poet that my professor likes a lot.

            It snowed most of the day and so I was glad that I didn’t have to ride my bike anywhere.

            I watched a couple of episodes of Leave It To Beaver. Although it is implied that Ward Cleaver has resorted to corporal punishment in the past, he is always shown in the presented situations as wanting to be above that kind of punishment. Ward mentioned getting the strap from his father just like I did and Eddie Haskell talked about his father letting him have it right across the puss. My father did that too with a black razor strap. It sure was a different era.