(Author Note: This is Part 2 of a 2 Part Story. You should read Part 1 first for the best results.)

Thursday

Jake Royer's first day of In-School Suspension (ISS) had been rough. He had worried that his second day could be even worse. Boy, was it ever worse! Apparently a minor riot had broken out in the James Bowie Middle School cafeteria at lunchtime on Wednesday. When the smoke cleared seven - count 'em, seven - seventh grade boys had been consigned to ISS for fighting, which was an automatic Level II offense. Add to that mob two sixth graders making their first visit to ISS, apparently for a cluster of Level I offenses that had been elevated, just like what had happened to Danny and himself. Jake was the only eighth grader, sitting right at the back of the room.

This meant that there were 10 boys in ISS that day, and Jake would be at the very back of the line. He would get to see the other nine get their butts burned off before taking his own turn riding the punishment desk. Once again the clock was inevitably clicking down to showtime. Many of the younger boys looked increasingly nervous as execution time approached. Jake actually felt a bit more confident than he had the day before. Scary as the paddle was, he had just felt it yesterday, so for some reason it didn't seem quite as frightening. Plus his backside barely hurt anymore, although he saw a bit of obvious bruising of both cheeks in the mirror that morning before getting dressed for school. There would be a lot more bruising after today, but he could cope with that.

The most important thing to Jake was that he had a long, private talk with his brother Tom the night before. The 17-year-old had been through it all, or so it seemed to his 14-year-old younger brother. Jake had confessed to Tom about his "coolant leak" issue, and Tom was sympathetic.

    __________

"I'm afraid that just happens to certain guys sometimes when they're being paddled," said Tom. "I guess if the impact force is too much, or if the bladder pressure is too high - or both - it forces out some 'coolant'."

"Did it ever happen to you?" asked Jake.

"Once or twice," said Tom. This made Jake smile until Tom added, "But when I was a lot younger than you are now."

"Oh," said Jake, dejectedly.

"It's not the end of the world," said Tom, "unless other boys in your class find out about it."

"Tell me about it," said Jake. "I'll have to move to Alaska if it happens again and they find out."

"Outer Mongolia might be a safer choice," said Tom. He laughed at the look of consternation from his little brother. "Look, bro. Now that you know you have this problem, you can do something about it. You might be a bit uncomfortable during the day tomorrow, but that's a foregone conclusion in any event, so what's to lose?"

"What do you have in mind?" said Jake, his curiosity piqued. "Wrap a rubber band around my wiener, or something?"

"Well, maybe if you actually had a 'wiener' that might work," said Tom, smirking. "But I doubt we could find a rubber band small enough for your little cocktail weenie."

"Hey!" said Jake, his anger rising, hands clenched into fists. "Take that back!"

"Alright," said Tom, laughing, "I was just kidding. Besides, I have a much more practical idea anyway."

"I'm listening," said Jake, still soundng angry, but with his fists unclenching.

"You pee because you drink, right?"

"Yeah," said Jake dubiously. "But if I stop drinking I die."

"Not for part of one day, dummy," said Tom. "Limit your liquid intake at breakfast tomorrow, and try not to drink anything at lunch. Then make sure your bladder is completely empty at the afternoon restroom break. With a little luck there won't be much pee in there at showtime. Or at least not enough bladder pressure for any 'coolant leaks' to happen, not matter how hard Birdy hits you."

"Birdy?" said Jake, "Who the hell is Birdy?"

"Mr. Hawkes," said Tom, "we've always called him Birdy. You didn't know that?"

"Nope."

"Wait a second," said Tom, "you must have heard me talking about him back when I was in middle school - he was paddling my ass back then just like he's paddling yours now."

"Maybe" said Jake. "I guess I wasn't really paying attention."

"Terrific! Why do I even bother telling you this stuff if you're not gonna listen to me?"

"I'm listening now!" said Jake. He opted to change the subject. "Well at least you don't have to worry about Birdy anymore. I guess ISS in high school is a cake walk compared to middle school?"

"Are you kidding me?" said Tom, shaking his head sadly. "You really are the most clueless little brat. Birdy should paddle your fanny every day just for being a dumb ass!"

Jake groaned in frustration. "Okay, mister genius older brother, what am I missing?"

"That 'Student Disciplinary Plan' that details ISS and CP, did you ever notice that it applies to the high school too, and not just the middle school?"

"No, I guess I didn't."

"Well it does," said Tom. "Mr. Leindecker is the high school assistant principal. He dishes out the paddle at the end of high school ISS sessions. And by comparison, Birdy's paddle is a real cake walk."

"Really?" said Jake, feeling sick at the thought that he would be a freshman in high school next year, and subject to the tender mercies of Mr. Leindecker whenever he screwed up. "How bad is it?"

"Pretty damned bad. It's bigger, made of pecan wood instead of oak, and it has small holes drilled in it."

"Holes?"

"Yep," said Tom. "The holes cut down on wind resistance so he can swing it harder, plus the holes can make blisters on the skin, though I think that blister thing mostly happens if it hits your bare skin."

"They paddle you on the bare in high school?"

"No, not really."

"Well that's something, I guess," said Jake.

"Look bro," said Tom, "stop worrying about high school. You need to survive the rest of middle school first. Specifically you need to get through ISS tomorrow without making a scene and without making a puddle on the floor."

"Thanks for the reminder."

"Hey, anything to help a brother."

    __________

Despite of all of Tom's good-natured teasing, that conversation with his big brother had made Jake feel alot better about his situation. He had followed Tom's suggestions to the letter. Now with just a minute or two to go until the Thurday end-of-ISS paddlings began, Jake felt quite thirsty, but he had no urge to pee at all. Things were looking good so far - at least with the 'cooland leak' situation.

The massive number of inmates in ISS that day meant that the boys were not spaced out as much as usual - there just wasn't enough room for that. Unfortunately this led some boys to attempt to break the rules of ISS, which were:

Rules for In-School Suspension - James Bowie Middle School (2012-2013)

• No talking.
• No passing notes or communication with other students.
• No cell phones or other electronic devices (except calculators).
• No sleeping.
• One AM Restroom Break/One PM Restroom Break.
• No outside lunches - bag lunch may be purchased from cafeteria.
• Students must remain within marked off space.
• Students will follow their class schedule while in ISS.

Unfortunately two of the seventh graders didn't seem to have gotten the message. They kept trying to communicate with each other, and with other students. This would have been distracting enough, but one of these two idiots who was sitting close to him actually tried to pass a note to Jake!

Mr. Tanner, the student teacher who was once again supervising ISS, called out Walker on that one, and for several other attempts at communication. Jake fervently hoped that Mr. Tanner realized that he had ignored all of Walker's idiocy, and he had most definitely not accepted the note Walker tried to pass to him. The fact that Tanner had said nothing to Jake left him feeling hopeful.

But if that little creep got Jake into more trouble with the authorities, Jake vowed he would find some way to get back at Walker for that, so help him Alanis Morrisette!

Then the classroom door opened and Mr. Hawkes... Birdy... entered. Showtime once again! Jake noticed that many of the boys in front of him bowed their heads as soon as Birdy entered with his fearsome oaken paddle. He wasn't sure if the boys were praying, or simply trying to avoid eye contact with the man, and implement, that was about to roast all their behinds.

At least Jake assumed all ten of them would be getting the paddle. Under the Student Disciplinary Code laid down by the Pecan Bluff Independent School District, parents had the option to file a form with the school office at the beginning of the school year to 'opt out' of corporal punishment for their child. This form had to be renewed at the beginning of each school year. Of course this was West Texas, an area Jake's grandfather referred to as "The buckle end of the Bible Belt". If any students at James Bowie Middle School had convinced their parents to file an 'opt out' form, Jake was not aware of it. In fact every boy Jake knew, and even many of the girls, got lickings at home as well as at school. Wherever those 'opt out' forms were stored at Jim Bowie Middle School, they probably had an inch of dust on top of them.

In a break from the routine of the previous day, Mr. Tanner had immediately rose from his seat when Birdy entered and went to talk quietly with his boss at the front of the class. The tension in the room ratcheted up several notches with this development. Jake's butterflies were turning into dive bombers early today. He fervently hoped that he could remain unentangled in whatever was about to happen. Although Mr. Tanner pointed out several students to Birdy during this conversation, Jake didn't think he had been one of them. He would find out for sure shortly.

Finally the two men ended their conversation and Mr. Tanner moved over near the windows. "On your feet, boys," he ordered.

As the students all rose to their feet, Jake was treated to a rear view of all his fellow inmates, and their denim clad, soon-to-be-blazing buttocks. He couldn't help wondering which pair of scorched cheeks would cause their owner to howl the loudest that day, because Jake was bound and determined that person would not be him!

Mr. Tanner said, "Okay boys, line up here," pointing to a spot on the floor by the windows. Once again the boys didn't exactly dawdle but they definitely did not rush to the appointed spot. This time Jake was last in line.

"Alright, you ten delinquents," said Mr. Hawkes, an annoyed look on his face. "You are all supposed to know the rules by now... but apparently some of you didn't get the message." Birdy glared at each boy in line, including Jake.

Dear Lord, thought Jake. Is he gonna fail all ten of us because of a couple of dimwits? The idea of a third day in a row in ISS literally made him feel sick. Just for starters, under those circumstances Jake's chances of avoiding a major dose of his father's razor strop on his bare ass were pretty much zero.

"We will take care of that matter shortly," continued Mr. Hawkes. "Meanwhile you have all been sentenced to ISS and CP. Most of you have successfully completed a day of ISS, so now it only remains to administer the CP. Alright, Arndt," Birdy pointed his paddle at the punishment desk in the front row, "bend over the front of the desk."

As Birdy's paddle went to work on its first target of the day, Jake breathed a quiet sigh of relief. So most of them had passed. He could only hope he was one of the lucky ones. If he wasn't, then Alanis Morrisette help that little Walker creep.

Arndt, the first 12-year-old sixth grader, had trouble coping with the burn of the oak paddle, in fact he howled through most of his paddling, though his dangling feet only kicked twice.

Guthrie, the other unlucky sixth grader, was second over the desk and howled ever louder. He never kicked, but his legs kind of twitched and fidgeted throughout the paddling. He rubbed a few tears from his eyes as he stood up afterwards, and slowly rubbed his burning bottom on the way back to his desk.

Oocker was the first 13-year-old seventh grade pugilist over the desk. The boy seemed to be taking it well at first, only yelping a bit as the last three swats hit home. But when he got up from the desk tears were streaming down his face. This may have been as much from embarrassment as from the pain, since the lad was also sporting a sizable dark patch on the front of his jeans at the crotch. Clearly the poor kid had suffered a uncontained coolant leak. At least it didn't appear to have run down either leg of his jeans into his shoes. Predictably, this development caused much silent merriment in the ranks of his fellow seventh graders. They couldn't really say anything under the current cirumstances, of course, but Jake imagined that poor Oocker would never be allowed to live down the shame of his little 'accident'.

The next four seventh-grade fighters were polished off in routine fashion. Each denim-clad backside absorbed its alloted dose of six strong swats from the oak paddle. The sting and burn that accumulated from these swats eventually caused the owner of each backside to emit involuntary gasps, grunts, and even the occasional yelp or howl as they writhed across the punishment desk.

As the line moved up and each boy in front of him was paddled, Jake grew more and more nervous. At least he only felt a vague urge to pee, not the desperate need he had felt the day before. Thank the Lord for helpful older brothers!

Finally only Jake, the Walker creep, and another seventh grader - who had been Walker's main colleague in disrupting the ISS, were left in line.

"Kelso," said Mr. Hawkes, "come up here." The boy approached and stood in front of the assistant principal. "You have read the rules for ISS, Kelso?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then tell me, Kelso, why did you see fit to break those rules and repeatedly try to communicate with other students?"

"I had a question, sir."

"If you have a question or problem you speak to the faculty member in charge of ISS. Those are the rules."

"But I had a question for Walker, sir."

"Refresh my memory, Kelso. What is the first rule of ISS?"

"No talking, sir."

"Precisely. Any question you have for another student needs to wait until you have both been dismissed from ISS for the day."

"Yes, sir," said Kelso. "Thank you, sir. I will make sure do it that way in the future."

"Excellent," said Mr. Hawkes, "you will get a chance to test your new found understanding of the ISS rules tomorrow, when you come back here to try again."

"Tomorrow?" said Kelso, in shock.

"Yes, tomorrow. You failed to successfully complete your day in ISS today, so you will try again tomorrow, Kelso. Now get your butt over the desk, you have nine swats coming."

Kelso took a step towards the punishment desk, then stopped and said, "Nine?"

"Yes Kelso, nine," said Mr. Hawkes. "Is there something wrong with your ears, boy? You get three extra swats for disrupting ISS today. And if you don't get your butt over that desk without any further argument, we'll just have to make it twelve!"

It was clear that Kelso desperately wanted to argue the point. On the other hand, he obviously had to weigh the risk of even more swats of the paddle than he was already in for. In the end Kelso made the same decision that Jake would have made in his place. The boy submissively draped himself over the punishment desk and grabbed on to both sides of the seat for dear life.

Craaackk!! Kelso gasped as the first paddle swat connected with its target. Jake had to give Birdy credit, he didn't seem to be holding back at all.

Craaackk!! As the paddle swats continued to rain down on Kelso's frantically clenching backside, the boy connected to that backside began yelping and then howling.

Jake glanced at Walker, standing immediately in front of him and next in line. He was gratified to see the look of horror on the little creep's face as he watched his companion howl and writhe over the desk. It was clear that Walker realized that he was in for the same treatment.

Suddenly the smirk fell off of Jake's own face when it dawned on him that depending on how Mr. Tanner read the situation, he might also be in line for nine swats of the paddle and a third day in a row of ISS. Oh, the humanity!

Jake glanced over at Mr. Tanner, trying to gauge whether he might have reported Jake for disrupting ISS. But the student teacher was engrossed in watching the paddling being dealt out to the howling Kelso. That's odd, Tanner seemed to be holding his hands in an unusual position, in front of his crotch. Terrific, the guy's probably some kind of perv who gets off on seeing boys paddled.

Well in the case of Kelso and Walker, Jake found it hard to begrudge anyone enjoyment from watching the little dimwits get their comeuppance. Jake just hoped that he wouldn't personally be adding anything to the proceedings... and anyone's potential pleasure while witnessing it... beyond the basic six swats he most definitely had coming and, to be honest with himself, he probably deserved.

Eventually the sobbing Kelso climbed off the punishment desk and limped his way back to his own desk, gently rubbing the seat of his jeans in a futile attempt to douse the flames caused by nine sturdy swats from Birdy's oak paddle.

"Well, Walker," said Mr. Hawkes, turning his attention on the next boy in line, "it seems you had some trouble following the rules of ISS as well."

"No, sir!" protested Walker. "It wasn't me. I was an innocent bystander. It was Kelso and Royer! They were the ones passing notes."

A fierce anger suddenly burned in Jake's soul. How dare that little brat try to frame him? It took every ounce of self control that Jake possessed to stop him from reaching out and strangling the creep.

"Really?" said Mr. Hawkes. "Let me get this straight, Walker. You are blaming two of your fellow students, and on top of that you're calling Mr. Tanner a liar?"

"No sir," said Walker, clearly trying to choose his words carefully, "I'm calling Mr. Tanner... mistaken."

Mr. Hawkes shook his head in disgust, "And I'm calling you disrespectful, Walker. Disrespect is a Level I offense. You have failed ISS today, and will report back here tomorrow to try again."

"But sir! I didn't do anything..."

"Silence, boy!" said Mr. Hawkes. "One more word out of you and it will be twelve swats for you today. Get over the desk, now!"

Walker looked like he was going to say something, then he deflated and turned to bend over the punishment desk. Birdy wasted no more time and began the paddling almost as soon as Walker was settled in position.

Craaackk!! "OOOWWWWwwwwww!"

It was predictable that Walker was a little coward on top of everything else. He yelped and howled and even kicked his way through his nine scorching swats. Jake enjoyed watching Walker's sniveling face turn into a mask of pain. Of course he would have enjoyed it even more if he could have been certain that he didn't have nine swats coming his own way.

What could Jake possibly say if Tanner did decide to report him as a third disruptor? Nothing useful, from the looks of it. Tanner was clearly trying to hide the tent he was pitching in the front of his pants as he watched Birdy's paddle set fire to Walker's clenching ass. Oddly enough, Jake suddenly felt an unwelcome stirring in his own pants. Not now! No boner now, please! The last thing he needed was for someone to think that he was a perv who enjoyed this kind of thing.

Walker was full-on crying by the time he climbed off the punishment desk and limped back towards his own desk, rubbing the seat of his jeans for all he was worth. So there is your winner - Walker's burning bottom was definitely the frontrunner in the 'I made my owner howl the loudest' sweepstakes.

Jake was terrified to look, but he had to. He looked up at Mr. Hawkes and locked eyes with the man who held his immediate future is his hands. What was it gonna be? Whatever the result, at least Jake no longer needed to hide a tent in his pants. The fear of his impending future options: bad and worse - had effectively killed his nascent erection and his wiener was safely back in noodle mode.

The moment seemed to stretch on forever, man and boy with their eyes locked, Jake poised between being nearly done with this nonsense, or falling further down into a spiral of continuing, mostly undeserved punishment. In fact it was probably only a second of two before Mr. Hawkes pointed at the desk with his paddle and said, "Get in position, Royer."

Jake practically glided over to the punishment desk. Never had he been so happy to be told to get into position to have his butt beaten. He just wanted to get his six swats out of the way and get back to his desk before Birdy changed his mind.

Craaackk!! Oh yeah, this is gonna be bad - he still had bruises from yesterday's six swats.

Craaackk!! Jake stifled a grunt. Well, Tanner might be a perv, but at least the man's an honest perv.

Craaackk!! "AAhhhhh!" Jake didn't really mind if Tanner enjoyed watching him bend over for his six swats. Just as long as he didn't report him for something he didn't do so he'd get extra swats today, and another trip through ISS tomorrow.

Craaackk!! "OOOOwwwwww!" This is really getting intense. Plus Jake had to admit to himself that he had jerked off the night before thinking about other boys in ISS being paddled - and no doubt would do so again tonight.

Craaackk!! "Uuuuuhhhhhhowww!" Wow! One more to go. Hmm. Did jerking off while thinking about other guys being paddled make him a perv? Jake didn't think so. It's not like he wanted to touch them in... places... or anything.

Craaaacckk!! "OOOWwwwwwwwwww!" The final scorching swat was almost anti-climatic. With the combined burn of twelve hearty paddle swats in about 24 hours, Jake had been unable to stop himself from yelping, and even howling a bit towards the end. But there were no tears, and no coolant leaks this time.

Soon he was standing by his desk at the back of the room while Birdy lectured them on their behavior. Before leaving he reminded Kelso and Walker that they would be back in ISS again tomorrow. Finally Mr. Hawkes reminded all ten boys to stop by the office for their letters home before boarding their buses.

On the way to the office Jake took a long drink of cool water from a water fountain in the hall. No sense staying dehydrated at this point. Then he stopped off at the boy's restroon. After his paddling he did feel the need to pee, and it was a long bus trip home. A few of the recently paddled seventh graders were in the restroom comparing their bruised butts. Jake treated himself to a glance or two at a few small, gaudily-bruised pairs of hind cheeks as he unzipped and made use of the urinal. But he decided not to actively participate in the festivities himself. As he left the restroom, Jake heard the little brats talking about the new nickname they were gonna give to Dan Oocker, the unlucky boy who wet his pants. "Diaper Dan" seemed to be their favorite. Poor kid.

The school bus dropped Tom and Jake off at the main gate to the Royer Ranch nearly an hour later. High school and middle school students kept the same daily bell schedule and rode the same buses. The fact that the two schools were next-door neighbors made this a simple solution for the rural area.

Jake was profoundly glad to be back on his feet and off the stupid bus. His bottom had been sore the previous day, but now his lower cheeks were really throbbing from the painful effects of the six fresh paddle swats Birdy had laid on top of yesterday's bruising. Jake had found it impossible to get comfortable seated on one of the bench seats and had ended up essentially kneeling on a seat for the long trip home.

Jake retrieved the mail from the family's mailbox next to the gate while Tom opened the gate, and then closed it behind them again once they were inside. As the brothers walked up the half mile long driveway to the Royer ranch house, Jake told Tom about Mr. Tanner's tented pants during the paddlings. He even worked up the nerve to tell Tom about his own jerking off to the memories of the ISS paddlings he witnessed.

"No, you're not a perv, bro," said Tom. "There's nothing wrong with a guy getting a boner while watching other guys get paddled, or strapped, or whatever. Or while thinking about it afterwards. At least as long as the guy getting the boner isn't the same person who is deciding who gets punished, and how much. That could be a problem."

"I get it," said Jake. "Mr. Tanner could have told Birdy that I had been disruptive too, and I would have been doomed to ISS tomorrow!"

"That's right," said Tom. "Whatever else you want to say about the guy, at least he's honest. Tell me something, Jake. Do you think you deserved those six swats today?"

"Yeah," said Jake, after a moment's thought. "I probably did deserve them." He looked around to see if the coast was clear. "Wanna see the bruises?"

"Sure!" said Tom, grinning.

Jake unfastened his jeans and dropped them and his briefs far enough to display his bruised bottom to his brother. He craned his neck around but was unable to see the bruises himself. "Guess I have to wait and check it in a mirror later."

"Wow," said Tom, "take my word for it." He forced his voice down into James Earl Jones registers, "Impressive. Most impressive."

Jake laughed at the Star Wars reference. He knew his brother was really into that old timey sci-fi stuff. Okay, Jake was into it too, but he preferred Star Trek. He carefully slid his briefs back up, then groaned in pain as he hiked his jeans back up a bit too fast.

"Still tender, eh?" said Tom.

"No shit, Sherlock," said Jake, rolling his eyes.

It was Tom's turn to laugh. "The pain will pass, bro. Meanwhile, do you really care if Tanner goes home tonight and waxes the dolphin while thinking about you getting your paddling? You were gonna get it anyway, and he didn't decide how bad it should be or anything."

"Wax the dolphin?" said Jake. "Never heard that one before." He thought for a few seconds. "Yeah, you're right, Tom. I don't really care what Tanner thinks or does."

"Well, within reason, that's good," said Tom. "But if Tanner, or any other adult ever touches you below the waist, you know to tell someone, right?"

"Yeah, I know," said Jake. He decided to change the subject as they approached the house. "Speaking of being touched below the waist, I wonder if Dad will take the razor strop to my bare butt tonight?"

"Ehhh, I doubt it," said Tom. "He seems to think you've suffered enough... as if that's possible."

"Ha, ha!" said Jake, sticking out his tongue at his older brother.

"See! That's exactly the kind of disrespect for your elders that I'm talking about," said Tom. "If it were up to me, Dad would light up your bare ass with the strop three or four times a week, just in the hope of teaching you a few manners."

"Sure, tell it, bro!" said Jake. "Tell everyone how bad I am, while you're such an angel."

"I didn't say that," said Tom, chuckling ironically. "Seriously though, your buns are probably safe from further burn damage tonight. If I were you though, I'd try to stay on Dad's good side for the next week... at least until those bruises on your sore little tushie are all healed up."

Jake laughed, "That's a good idea, bro."

"Thank you," said Tom. "And try to behave yourself at school the rest of the year, too. If you swear in gym class again it will be your third office referral of the year."

"I know," said Jake, thinking about how he had been caught swearing by his P.E. teacher back in the Fall term. Unfortunately swearing or 'making obscene gestures' was an automatic Level II offense, and had led Jake to his first eighth grade session in ISS. "I sure don't want to go through 3 days of ISS and CP in a row."

"Don't forget a near-certain dose of Dad's razor strop on top of that," said Tom. "Not to mention being banned from your end-of-year overnight field trip."

"Wow, I forgot about that!" said Jake. Yikes! Eighteen total swats of Birdy's paddle (minimum) over three days, plus a royal rump roasting from Dad's fearsome razor strop, plus missing the eighth grade class trip to Austin, Texas. His class would be visiting the State Capitol, a couple of museums, and the Lyndon Baines Johnson Presidential Library. On the final day of the three day trip his class would get to have some purely non-educational fun at the Schlitterbahn Water Park in nearby New Braunfels, Texas before returning home to Pecan Bluff. Missing that trip would really suck rocks. "Another good idea, Tom. Thanks for the reminder."

"You're most welcome," said Tom, bowing grandly to his brother.

"So, when did you take up thinking?" said Jake, grinning ear to ear. "Finally found a new hobby?"

Jake took off running towards the house with his brother in hot pursuit. "Come here, you little brat!" yelled Tom, pretending to be furious with his little brother but laughing far too much to make it remotely believable, "Wait until I get my hands on you... I'll wring your neck!" The laughing brothers entered their family home and closed the door behind them.

The author welcomes comments from readers. You can contact Bobby Watson by e-mail at: mrbwatson (at) gmail.com
Please be patient - Bobby doesn't always check his e-mail every day.