Beating the Heat pt3

Spike has been in seclusion for hours, tidying up his room and getting ahead on his summer reading. Occasionally dipping into the snacks he's secreted away that he thinks his mom doesn't know about (she does but chooses to ignore it) while making sure to discretely dispose of the wrappers since she said no supper. Half of him dreads the coming of 9 o'clock, and the other half wishes it would hurry up so he could get it over with. Finally the chimes from the downstairs grandfather clock announce the arrival of his mother, and her slipper. Each swat on his already-sore bum feels like he just dropped cheek-first into a cactus patch.