“Barb, was this a good idea?” Siss asks.
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“How the fuck should I know? I never was shot before!” I reply.
“Can they really do this to us” Siss asks.
“I have no idea, Siss. Is it 1937 or 2016?” I reply.
“What happens in 1937?” Siss asks.
“I don’t know; I was never there!” Barb says”
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‘What year is it?’ I wonder.
Barbara Moore –I wonder if it is 2016 or In a tradition started when the College of the Virgin Martyrs as brought from the Archbishop of the Major Brampton Diocese of the island nation, the Harvest Festival always featured the freshman class of sorority sisters passing their induction into their chosen house.
Induction would feature being displayed in pillories…
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…and even being whipped when lock in!
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Others are lewdly displayed in stocks.
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The practice goes on even today though institutes call it ‘hazing’.
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The group ‘People for Ethical Lives and Treatment of Students’ even protests the event. They are a pack of fucking liberals with no respect for traditions!
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You would not believe the ribald and vulgar jokes made of the acronym of their name PELTS. Well, Tree is writing this so maybe you would!
But a new tradition was started that fateful day in September 1937. The Harvest Festival Queen would arrive in the convertible she had triumphant rode in waving to the crowd along the parade route the day before is now delivered to the far end of the killing lane where Miss Barbara Moore stands bound to the post waiting (dreading?) her execution where a whipping frame is set. She is stripped by the Director of Discipline Jane Tree and bound to receive a score of lashes!
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So while Barb and Siss await the firing squad the 2016 Harvest Festival Queen waits proudly with tumescent nipples for her score of lashes!
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Tree
PELTS ? Huh?
What kind of acronym is that Tree? If you are making a crudely veiled reference to my cute little shaved bush, I hereby declare that kind of innuendo totally out of bounds. It's not to be spoken of as some kind of furry animal trophy, and will you stop maniping me from THAT angle!!
Now, as for the predicament of the Harvest Festival Queen, she gets no sympathy from me because a) she is a stuck up bitch and deserves every lash she gets and then some, and b) I am about to be executed by firing squad and my only concern right now is whether there still may be a way out of this mess before it's too late.
If not, may I please request permission to choose the color of my blindfold and to be given a pair of matching kinis to wear? At least Do me the favor of letting me die with a little modesty and a bit of fashion, ok?