I got stripes

It’s inexplicable, this recent addiction to Johnny Cash. I’ve always been a fan and I have a vinyl collection to prove it; but lately, I find Cash songs stuck in my head on an almost daily basis. The one that I’ve been humming since Friday night? “I’ve got stripes”:

On a monday I was ar-rested (uh huh)
on a Tuesday they locked me in the jail (oh boy)
on a Wednesday my trial was at-tested
on a Thursday they said guilty and the judge’s gavel fell

I got stripes – stripes around my shoulders
I got chains – chains around my feet
I got stripes – stripes around my shoulders
and them chains – them chains they’re about to drag me down

Except for me: I got stripes, stripes upon my sit spots/I got stripes, stripes upon my cheeks. I just hope I don’t sing it out loud.

The implement? Another crop: evil, inflexible, and cane-like, it was dressed in an innocuous, cheery pink nylon from Fleck. The reaction? Air hissing through my teeth, knees buckling after each stroke, it made an impact.

For a spanko, it’s difficult to find an actual physical punishment. But this was another job well done! (Please don’t mistake that as encouragement for a repeat session!)