I remember when our house burned down in Winnipeg, and I was forced to move to Coaldale and stay with my grandparents and I was stuck going to a Catholic school run by nuns.
They certainly didn't believe in sparing the rod. I remember I was whispering to a kid next to me and the nun teaching the class stomped over to me and broke a ruler over my head.
I remember getting called into the principles office because I was over heard saying a bad word, and I get 10 lashes across the palm of my hand.
Of course I was young and upset, and when I got home I complained to my grandpa, and he took my hand, looked at it, then looked at me and said "That's some nice work, you understand you had it coming right?"
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My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;
Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!
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