How Dare You!

Mr. Creed told himself it was God's work. He took the wards of the state in, and gave them a real home. Sure he got stipends, but he wasn't making a living at this. He had family money and did this because he cared about the children's immortal souls.

His cane saw lots of use. Spare the rod and so forth. His charges weren't going to join gangs or do drugs or anything. They'd be credits to their community and to him.

He might lock one of them under the stairs sometimes. That was just so they could think about their mistakes. Afterwards, he just gave them five straps on the hand nothing else. He was strict, but fair.

Then Mikey came along. The social workers found the tyke on the streets. He was all alone, so they brought him to Creed's mansion. Mikey was a cute little fella, but jittery. Mr. Creed figured he'd have little trouble out of Mikey. Sure, he'd have to give him some discipline once in a while, but probably not more than once a week.

Less than a week after arriving, though, Mikey got sick. He spat up all over the floor by his bed. There was no call for it. The bathroom was close. Mikey still looked a bit green, but he needed to learn a lesson. Creed took him downstairs, bared the lad's back, and gave him ten across the shoulders with the cane.

Mikey didn't cry, but when it was over he looked at Creed with eyes of steel. "Why Mr. Creed? I couldn't help myself?" His voice was calm and strong.

Creed's voice shook. "How dare you, boy! I know what's best for you. First you puke on my floor, next week maybe you spit in the school hall, then who knows what. It's the will of God that I discipline you."

Mikey stared at him for a second, then said, "No, it isn't."

Creed was so angry he locked Mikey under the stairs. Then he saw some of the others looking in on him. Mary was at the front, and she wasn't fast enough to avoid his clutches. "What have we here? A little girl out of bed? Twenty on your backside, then!" It was good news for Creed. After Mikey, he needed something to settle his nerves.

A light shone from the door under the stairs before he hit Mary. That little brat had a flashlight in there. He shoved Mary into a corner and told her to stay put.

As he opened the door, lazing light flared along with a voice like a shotgun blast. "How dare you, Creed? You pretend the shepherd, but instead are the wolf. You abuse the name of the Lord. You are judged and found wanting by his true servant!"

They found him the next morning, curled into a ball under the stairs. He kept chanting, "Thy kingdom come, thy will be done."