From your parents. What was the worst punishment they ever gave you....the one that just sticks out in your mind. And what did you do?

Me....when I was 15, I vandalized this warehouse club, was hauled into police custody....and was on punishment for 3 months.

Threw a knife at my brother and it cut him. My mother beat my ass into oblivion. I think that's the worst whupping I ever got. No t.v., no phone, no Nintendo 64 for a month. I was 13. Luckily, my father didn't live with us at this time so I didn't have to feel his wrath, but he definitely wasn't happy either. I think the worst punishment I got from my father was when he canceled my AOL once. It was something stupid, so it was only off for like a month.

Worst punishment I got as a kid, those guilt trips, you know the sort, 'Nobody will ask you anything again/I'll just never talk to you again' 'I'll never ask anybody to do anything again and just work myself into an early grave', etc. What I did? Opened my mouth. And in my opinion, that, short of physical abuse, is the WORST thing you could do to a kid.

I was late for dinner one night, I think I was about 12 or 13. My father beat the living shit out of me, slapped me around, turned me upside down, hitting my head on the floor, got hit in the head with the broom and then my older brother finally stepped in and made him stop. I would not give him the satisfaction of crying so I just ran out of the house and didn't come back until he was gone off to work.

The worst was when I was seven. My sister and her friend kept taunting me. At one point, I was in the backyard and when I tried to get into the house, they locked the screen door and wouldn't let me in. I became incensed and busted the bottom glass in. From there, everyone just looked at me in this sort of shock and disbelief that I had done such a thing. Then about sixty seconds later, I'm suddenly picked up from behind by my dad, who carries me up to my room, and he proceeds to tear my ass up.

The worse one for me was when I was 10 and went through a "playing w/matches" phase. I was out in the backyard with a lighter and gasoline from the lawnmower and wound up setting the grass on fire! It went up in a blaze and I couldn't put it out because the water hose was in the front and wouldn't reach. The fire spread to the bottom paneling of the garage. The fire department was just up the street so they quickly came and put it out before any serious damage was done but the grass totally gone. My mom was normally not shy about beating my butt but she was so disgusted that she didn't bother. My parents were seperated then but my dad made a return to the house about 2 hrs. later to beat my ass. There were whelps and black & red spots all over my arms, back and legs from the extension chord he used. I was also grounded for a month.

RobbieFTW wrote:

The worse one for me was when I was 10 and went through a "playing w/matches" phase. I was out in the backyard with a lighter and gasoline from the lawnmower and wound up setting the grass on fire! It went up in a blaze and I couldn't put it out because the water hose was in the front and wouldn't reach. The fire spread to the bottom paneling of the garage. The fire department was just up the street so they quickly came and put it out before any serious damage was done but the grass totally gone. My mom was normally not shy about beating my butt but she was so disgusted that she didn't bother. My parents were seperated then but my dad made a return to the house about 2 hrs. later to beat my ass. There were whelps and black & red spots all over my arms, back and legs from the extension chord he used. I was also grounded for a month.

Sounds just like a beating my Dad would have given me.

Having to shave my head after dying it red. Like Ronald McDonald-red. My mom went on vacation in New York and I did it while she was there, so when we went to pick her up from the airport, she gave me the dirtiest look ever and didn't even talk to me for like 2 weeks.

Constant guilt trips.

When I was about 12, I didn't want to go to church and made a big production of it. When my dad demanded that I get ready, I went to my bedroom and locked the door, refusing to come out. He banged and threatened...threatened and banged. I refused to budge and started to use profanity, telling him to go away and said I'd never go to the synagogue ever again. All was quiet for about twenty minutes, I didn't hear a peep from outside. Thinking that the coast was clear, I opened the door and was swiftly knocked to the floor. My dad beat me with his belt, his boot and I swear there were a few fists in there too. All while my mom just casually observed and said/did nothing. I was all banged up, but still had to go to church.

My dad was a sadist. He made a paddle out of a two by four, drilled holes in one end (to make it hurt us more), and wrapped duct tape around the other (to make it hurt him less).
He would spank us until we had bleeding spots all over our back side.
This paddle would go missing periodically, and when it was time to be punished, he would start counting. Every second it took us to find the paddle was another spanking we would get. It wasn't until I was an adult that I realized that it was he who hid the damned thing.