#yardstick

[followthebluebell]

Yardstick brought a feather in from our walk and he's happy about it.

[cyclepsycho57]

[mystepmomspanksme]

Our New Teacher

I thought getting a spanking would be worth getting more attention from our very pretty new teacher.

It's been a week and I'm still having a hard time deciding.

[the-barefoot-hatter]

Does Steve have a human form?

while I'm not much for humaning the triangles, I don't see why he couldn't have one! his dada is a shapeshifter after all! It would be something like this

wait what's holding up your sleeves Steve

zoom, enhance

GASP

It's Yardstick and Mrs Spaghetti!!!

[catfindr]

[cautionramen]

Noodle give kissy 💋

[wehadariverboatinourlivingroom]

This is a picture of a yardstick that my younger brother and I found at an antique mall over the weekend. Younger people might have never seen one of these before but in the 1950's most households would have had at least one and maybe several. These wooden sticks were passed out as advertisements at fairs, by political candidates and in stores. We kids could put them to use as short poles on which to hang banners during the parades we organized. When we placed them between chair backs and hung sheets from them, they could support our tents. And, of course, they could always be used as weapons during the battles that we were constantly staging. But, except for measuring things, we kids had absolutely no idea what an adult might do with them. . . . until this one night.

Mother and Daddy didn't go out often but when they did, Mother was usually able, through the local YWCA, to find an older woman who for a small remuneration was willing to feed us dinner, read us stories and put us to bed. Mother always wondered why so few of these women returned for a second evening.

My older brother could put me up to no end of mischief. We weren't bad exactly, just annoying. One of our favorite targets was babysitters who were, as I said, elderly and, unlike our Mother, didn't know when it was absolutely necessary to draw the line.

On this one night, we were especially annoying. When Mrs. Shafer, that evening’s sitter, finally got us to go upstairs and get into our pajamas for bed, we began our game. I'd rush over and jump into Billy’s bed and when she dragged me back to my own room, he'd hide and pop out at her from under either my bed or his.

Billy's bedroom was at the back of the house and mine at the front and in each of our rooms, our beds were placed so that they faced each other (well, technically I suppose it was our feet that faced each other) We started a new game then. First Billy would sit up in his bed while I lay flat and then he'd lay back down and I would pop up. I don't know how long it took us to tire of this game, but I do remember the babysitter, that poor hard-pressed older woman sitting grimly in the hall between our rooms clutching a yardstick in a very threatening way. I don't know if she would have used it if we had pressed her but in the actual event, she didn't. Either we got bored and fell asleep or our parents came home.

I don't think that we saw Mrs Shafer again, but at least we had finally found out something an adult could do with a yardstick when they weren't using it for measuring.

[scribbly-sun-socks]

BOO mama kitty jumpscare

diesel and colt both still have their baby feathers so who knows what they’ll look like all grown (not me)