When you are little, and up to no good, there is only one thing you really fear. Not the boogie man. Not Biff, the 5th grader who keeps taking your lunch money. Not even Mrs. McFlurry, the greatly feared homeroom teacher and hander out of recess detentions. None of these things can hold the abject terror of one single phrase:

Don't make me get my shoe!

You know you are in deep shit if you hear these words uttered from the mouth of a parental unit 5 times your size.

You know you will get only one warning.

You know that the punishment will be harsh and swift.

You know there is no escape.

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