[strela]

I used to have to go pick my own switch. Cruel beyond words. Once or twice is all it took.

I was "allowed" to do that, once. When I returned with a twig, Mom went out and cut her own switch then applied it to my backside. (Hey, I thought the twig thing was funny at the time - Mom failed to see the humor).

[My back yard]

I actually got out of a switching once. I was 4, (mom tells this story a lot, still) and she sent me for a switch. I came back with an assortment of terrible things and said 'choose your weapon'. She let me off. It didn't work again.