Sunday, April 22, 2007
Where Have All The Spankos Gone?
No, Fantastic Spanking has not been forgotten, forsaken, or for-anything-else. I cannot even claim writers block. The truth is that absolutely everything has gone wrong in the Spakowiak household.
Allow me to present just one example of the misery that I have had to withstand.
On the Wednesday following Easter, the lovely Angela’s parents were scheduled to depart. They had a 3 pm flight to Arizona to visit some friends, so Angela was preparing to take them to the airport at 8 am that morning to make sure that they made it through security in plenty of time. Their bags were packed, everyone was dressed and ready to go. I had said my good-byes and had retired to my office to resume the work week.
Suddenly, I heard my darling wife calling, extremely urgently, "FRANCIS!" The tone of her voice conveyed to me that there must be an emergency, so I hurried to the back door of the barn to see what had gone so terribly wrong
.
When I arrived at the scene, I discovered Angela’s father lying on the floor of the bathroom, groaning and clutching his chest. Angela was kneeling beside him and her mother was in an absolute panic, pacing back and forth. Angela ordered me to summon an ambulance.
"My dear," I said to her, "we should take a moment to see if your dad can talk so we can ascertain more clearly what is causing his discomfort."
"He’s having a HEART ATTACK, you blowhard!!" Angela’s mother shrieked back at me.
"Call the damn ambulance!" Angela ordered again. Just then, Angela’s father rolled onto his back and started shaking his head and pointing. I paused to see what he might be trying to communicate. He tried to talk but just gasped and slumped back.
"HE CAN’T BREATHE!" Angela’s mother cried. "Oh, my God, he’s going to die!" When she said that, Angela’s father began to shake his head again. Something about the way he was reacting told me that, while something was terribly wrong, it was not with his heart.
At this point, two things require a bit of an explanation. First, just off of the back door on the barn that is our house is a laundry room. As you enter that room, there is, to one’s left, a small loo. If one is not careful, when exiting the loo, if the laundry room door is approximately three-quarters open, one can walk right into it.
Second, my father-in-law is a dork.
And now, back to our story.
About this time, my younger daughter, Colette, appeared. She tried to calm her grandmother, who was still all a-twitter. But she was not to be calmed.
"He can’t breathe!" she screamed again. "He needs CPR!"
Angela checked for a pulse, and appeared to find one. Furthermore, her father was still quite conscious. Colette, to her everlasting credit, tried to reassure her grandmother.
"Do CPR! Do it now, before he DIES!" Angela’s mother continued to scream.
Colette then grabbed her grandmother by both arms. "GRANDMA!" she shouted. "SHUT UP!!"
That brought complete silence to the entire situation.
Now that she had everyone’s attention, Colette continued in a lower voice. "Grandma, you can’t do CPR on someone who is conscious."
"But he can’t breathe!"
However, Angela’s father was clearly breathing, albeit rather noisily.
"He’s is breathing, Grandma," Colette responded. "And mom found a pulse, didn’t you, mom" Angela nodded her agreement.
"We learned in our freshman health class last month that if you do CPR on someone who is breathing and has a heart beat, then you will kill them." That brought her grandmother up short.
Angela’s father’s breath seemed to be coming easier, although he still seemed distressed. He tried to speak again, and this time found his voice.
It turns out that, just as they were heading out the door, Angela’s father felt that he should make one last rest room pit stop since he did not think he would be seeing a bathroom for a while. While he was "resting," Angela and her mother took the last of the bags to the car. When they returned, they found Angela’s father in his current position. They assumed that he was having a heart attack.
What really happened was that, as he was leaving the rest room, he was reading his traveling itinerary and not paying attention to what might be impeding his path. He proceeded to wade, full force, into the side of the afore-mentioned laundry room door. The force of the blow spun him around, at which point he lost his balance and fell forward, hitting his chest on the bathroom sink and knocking the wind out of him.
I had brought my trusty cell phone with me, but after determining the source of his chest pains, rather than calling the paramedics, we called our family doctor, whom we have known for fifteen years. She sent us to the local x-ray clinic, who took him in with minimal wait. They discovered that the poor man had in actuality broken two ribs on the sink and two fingers as he fell to the ground. He was patched up by a specialist at the clinic, given excellent drugs, and sent on his way.
Naturally, Angela would even consider allowing them to travel that day. Instead, she had her father spend the next few days convalescing in the most comfortable room in the house, which happens to be our bedroom. That left Angela and I to scramble for limited sleeping space, as the third floor was still uninhabitable due to a lack of heat. Since winter had made a reappearance, it was too chilly. We ended up converting my office into a temporary bedroom. All of this busyness left no time or opportunity for any spanking, much to my chagrin.
There have been other setbacks as well. When Maribel returned to school after Easter, she discovered her laptop was missing (it was later recovered, thankfully). Angela’s back issues flared, resulting in my playing chauffeur for her. And, most frustrating of all, my PC decided to cease to function, making it all but impossible for me to contribute anything to Fantastic Spanking, even were I to have wanted to.
So, now I have returned, ready to once again regale you with tales of my imaginary life. I appreciate your patience, and I’m glad that you have returned. For those of you who haven’t come back yet (and you know who you are), I shall not miss you since I can’t. After all, I don’t exist.
Allow me to present just one example of the misery that I have had to withstand.
On the Wednesday following Easter, the lovely Angela’s parents were scheduled to depart. They had a 3 pm flight to Arizona to visit some friends, so Angela was preparing to take them to the airport at 8 am that morning to make sure that they made it through security in plenty of time. Their bags were packed, everyone was dressed and ready to go. I had said my good-byes and had retired to my office to resume the work week.
Suddenly, I heard my darling wife calling, extremely urgently, "FRANCIS!" The tone of her voice conveyed to me that there must be an emergency, so I hurried to the back door of the barn to see what had gone so terribly wrong
.
When I arrived at the scene, I discovered Angela’s father lying on the floor of the bathroom, groaning and clutching his chest. Angela was kneeling beside him and her mother was in an absolute panic, pacing back and forth. Angela ordered me to summon an ambulance.
"My dear," I said to her, "we should take a moment to see if your dad can talk so we can ascertain more clearly what is causing his discomfort."
"He’s having a HEART ATTACK, you blowhard!!" Angela’s mother shrieked back at me.
"Call the damn ambulance!" Angela ordered again. Just then, Angela’s father rolled onto his back and started shaking his head and pointing. I paused to see what he might be trying to communicate. He tried to talk but just gasped and slumped back.
"HE CAN’T BREATHE!" Angela’s mother cried. "Oh, my God, he’s going to die!" When she said that, Angela’s father began to shake his head again. Something about the way he was reacting told me that, while something was terribly wrong, it was not with his heart.
At this point, two things require a bit of an explanation. First, just off of the back door on the barn that is our house is a laundry room. As you enter that room, there is, to one’s left, a small loo. If one is not careful, when exiting the loo, if the laundry room door is approximately three-quarters open, one can walk right into it.
Second, my father-in-law is a dork.
And now, back to our story.
About this time, my younger daughter, Colette, appeared. She tried to calm her grandmother, who was still all a-twitter. But she was not to be calmed.
"He can’t breathe!" she screamed again. "He needs CPR!"
Angela checked for a pulse, and appeared to find one. Furthermore, her father was still quite conscious. Colette, to her everlasting credit, tried to reassure her grandmother.
"Do CPR! Do it now, before he DIES!" Angela’s mother continued to scream.
Colette then grabbed her grandmother by both arms. "GRANDMA!" she shouted. "SHUT UP!!"
That brought complete silence to the entire situation.
Now that she had everyone’s attention, Colette continued in a lower voice. "Grandma, you can’t do CPR on someone who is conscious."
"But he can’t breathe!"
However, Angela’s father was clearly breathing, albeit rather noisily.
"He’s is breathing, Grandma," Colette responded. "And mom found a pulse, didn’t you, mom" Angela nodded her agreement.
"We learned in our freshman health class last month that if you do CPR on someone who is breathing and has a heart beat, then you will kill them." That brought her grandmother up short.
Angela’s father’s breath seemed to be coming easier, although he still seemed distressed. He tried to speak again, and this time found his voice.
It turns out that, just as they were heading out the door, Angela’s father felt that he should make one last rest room pit stop since he did not think he would be seeing a bathroom for a while. While he was "resting," Angela and her mother took the last of the bags to the car. When they returned, they found Angela’s father in his current position. They assumed that he was having a heart attack.
What really happened was that, as he was leaving the rest room, he was reading his traveling itinerary and not paying attention to what might be impeding his path. He proceeded to wade, full force, into the side of the afore-mentioned laundry room door. The force of the blow spun him around, at which point he lost his balance and fell forward, hitting his chest on the bathroom sink and knocking the wind out of him.
I had brought my trusty cell phone with me, but after determining the source of his chest pains, rather than calling the paramedics, we called our family doctor, whom we have known for fifteen years. She sent us to the local x-ray clinic, who took him in with minimal wait. They discovered that the poor man had in actuality broken two ribs on the sink and two fingers as he fell to the ground. He was patched up by a specialist at the clinic, given excellent drugs, and sent on his way.
Naturally, Angela would even consider allowing them to travel that day. Instead, she had her father spend the next few days convalescing in the most comfortable room in the house, which happens to be our bedroom. That left Angela and I to scramble for limited sleeping space, as the third floor was still uninhabitable due to a lack of heat. Since winter had made a reappearance, it was too chilly. We ended up converting my office into a temporary bedroom. All of this busyness left no time or opportunity for any spanking, much to my chagrin.
There have been other setbacks as well. When Maribel returned to school after Easter, she discovered her laptop was missing (it was later recovered, thankfully). Angela’s back issues flared, resulting in my playing chauffeur for her. And, most frustrating of all, my PC decided to cease to function, making it all but impossible for me to contribute anything to Fantastic Spanking, even were I to have wanted to.
So, now I have returned, ready to once again regale you with tales of my imaginary life. I appreciate your patience, and I’m glad that you have returned. For those of you who haven’t come back yet (and you know who you are), I shall not miss you since I can’t. After all, I don’t exist.
Comments:
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Sounds crazy around your imaginary house. Hope it gets less crazy and glad to see you blogging again!
# posted by 
: April 22, 2007 11:09 PM
: April 22, 2007 11:09 PM 
All -
Thank-you for your kind comments. It is indeed a pleasure to once again be able to contribute to my own little piece of the internet.
Regards,
Frank
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Thank-you for your kind comments. It is indeed a pleasure to once again be able to contribute to my own little piece of the internet.
Regards,
Frank
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