"All right, get up," said the headmaster. The black-robed man watched as 13-year-old Trevor Atkinson resisted the urge to rub the stripes that had just been added to his bottom. Instead, the lad straightened up, then gingerly pulled up his white y-fronts. The boy winced slightly as the soft cotton made contact with the fresh tramlines that blossomed out of the lower curves of his buttocks.

Trevor then pulled up his grey school shorts, only slightly less gingerly. Finally the lad moved slowly away from the chair he had been bending over the back of and resumed his position standing next to his classmate, and partner in crime.

"Langdon, you're next," said the headmaster.

Trevor's classmate and best friend, George Langdon, reluctantly moved to the back of the chair and stood with his hands at his sides.

"Alright, boy. Trousers down."

George Langdon had trouble keeping a mischievous grin from his lips as the 13-year-old undid the buttons on his grey short trousers and lowered them, revealing a pair of bright orange briefs with a greyish-white waistband.

"Wh..what the devil is the meaning of this, boy!" asked the headmaster, his ire rising and his face getting red. He tapped the seat of the offending briefs with the tip of the cane to make it precisely clear what he was talking about.

Atkinson snickered at the cheek of his friend. Langdon merely smirked and said, "They're my Luke Skywalker Flight Suit Underoos, sir."

The headmastered spluttered indignantly, literally at a loss for coherent words at this display of impertinence.

"CUT!" yelled the director.

Laughter reverberated around the soundstage, which had been dressed to look like a traditional English headmaster's office from the 1950s. Alan Tetley, the young actor playing Trevor Atkinson, said, "Blimey, Colin, those are brilliant! How'd you sneak 'em past wardrobe?"

"Piece of cake!" boasted Colin Welles, the actor playing George Langdon.

The director was really steamed, and walked past the cameras onto the set. "Why do you keep doing this to me, Colin?" he asked in exasperation.

"What's wrong, Francis?" Colin asked, his face a mask of mock innocence.

"You know perfectly well what's wrong, Colin," said the director. "Tears of the Innocent - the motion picture we happen to be shooting here - takes place in 1958. Underoos have only been out for a couple of years."

"Aw, come on!" said Colin. "They're just orange pants. It's not like they have Mark Hamill's face on 'em, or anything."

"That's not the point, Colin," said the director, trying to remain patient. "English schoolboys in the 1950s did not wear coloured underpants. You were provided with plain white briefs by the wardrobe department."

"I'm just trying to honour my hero, George Lucas," said Colin.

"Yes, Colin," said the director. "We all know you've seen The Empire Strikes Back four times."

"Five times!"

"Okay, five times."

"So far!"

"Yes, alright," said the director. "Now go back to your dressing room and put on the proper underwear."

"No!"

"No?" said the director. "Did you just say 'no' to me?" He saw the man playing the headmaster, a genuine retired English headmaster, tense up, his face a mask of anger. The man moved to grab the petulant boy by the scruff of the neck, but the director waved him off.

"Listen," said Colin, "George Lucas says..."

"Hold it, boy!" said the director, getting close to losing his temper. "In case you hadn't noticed, George Lucas isn't directing this goddamned picture, I am! George Lucas is probably in a bank vault somewhere in California counting his billions. We're here in England trying to make a film that doesn't involve Luke Skywalker in any way whatsoever."

"But George Lucas was around back in 1958..." said Colin.

"Yes, he was!" said the director, once again cutting across the boy's explanation. He had learned, much to his dismay, over the past two weeks that Colin Welles was one of those people who will keep arguing his point infinitely until the other party gets tired and gives in. "But in 1958 George Lucas wasn't making feature films, in fact he was about the same age you are now."

"I bet he was still making films and performing," said Colin.

"Do you know George Lucas personally?" asked the director. Colin shook his head in the negative. "Well, my boy, I do happen to know the man. I actually worked with him on a couple of his films pre-Star Wars. I can tell you that back in 1958 the only regular performances George Lucas was giving were puppet shows with his morning boners, which he may or may not have filmed in 8mm."

Laughter could be heard from various people around the set, but Colin was horrified. It was now the boy's turn to splutter in outrage, "How.. how dare you talk that way about George Lucas?"

"Look, Colin," said the director. "How many Oscars does your hero have so far?"

"None," admitted Colin. "But I know he'll win a bunch for The Empire Strikes Back next year!"

"Maybe he will," said the director. "I wish him luck with that. But several people on this soundstage already have Oscars sitting at home on their mantelpieces. Some of them have more than one."

"I know," said Colin, blushing at bit. "You have four yourself."

"Five."

"Okay, five," said Colin.

"So far."

"Yes, right," said Colin, finally pulling his school shorts back up to hide the orange Underoos. "Well," the cheeky boy allowed reluctantly, "maybe you guys really do know what you're talking about."

"It's awfully nice of you to give us so much credit," said the director. He winced when the boy stuck his tongue out at him. "That's it, you! Get back to your dressing room and change into the proper underpants. Everybody else, take five." The headmaster stormed off the set in disgust.

As Colin slowly made his way to the dressing room, the director called after him, "Colin! We'll talk about this again later."

The boy stopped, turned back towards the director and said, "I bet we won't." He then stuck out his tongue again and continued his unhurried progress towards his dressing room.

The director sighed. It was gonna be another very long day.

"This can't go on, Mrs. Welles," said the producer. He had just finished recounting a few of the more annoying and time-wasting pranks that Colin had pulled off during the previous two weeks of filming.

"Oh, pish!" said Mrs. Welles. "Colin is just high spirited."

"No," corrected the director. "Colin is a major league pain in the ass."

"He's a brilliant actor," protested Mrs. Welles, "far and away the best in his age group!"

"So you've been telling us for two weeks, now," said the producer.

"Fred," said the director, "do you have Colin's resume handy?"

"Sure thing, boss," said Fred, one of the assistant directors. He was standing near the director, who was seated at a card table at the rear of the soundstage. Mrs. Welles, the producer, and the gentleman playing the headmaster were also seated around the table.

"Could you read us the highlights, please?"

"Of course!" said Fred. He quickly scanned the resume the director had asked him to bring to the meeting and began, "Colin Patrick Welles, born January 13, 1966 in Barnstaple, Devonshire, England. Professional acting debut: 1970, UK commercial for Coca-Cola, part of the "It's the Real Thing" ad campaign.

Fred's eyes scanned the document and he continued, "Colin had several bit parts in British television shows and a couple of movies. Mostly tiny roles credited as "Boy with Balloon", things of that nature. Colin's breakthrough came in 1975 when he co-starred in the successful English beach comedy, Babes in Babbacombe. Colin literally stole the show as the impish little brother of one of the titular "Babes".

Mrs. Welles was glowing with pride, remembering this triumph, until the director said, "Strange, you rarely see the phrase 'stole the show' actually printed on an actor's resume. I wonder how that got there?" Mrs. Welles started blushing at that comment.

The director nodded to Fred, who continued on, "Over the past five years Colin has made guest appearances - in actual speaking roles - on television shows both here and in Hollywood. The list includes Dr. Who, Are You Being Served?, Barney Miller, and Taxi."

"Don't forget Colin's theatre career!" said Mrs. Welles.

"Oh, yes," said Fred. He scanned the resume until he found it, "right, Colin's only major theatre role was as The Artful Dodger in a North Devon Amateur Dramatic Society production of Oliver!

"No!" protested Mrs. Welles. "Surely there was more than that..."

"Really?" said the director. "Perhaps a starring role as David Copperfield in the West End that slipped your mind when filling out the resume?"

"Well.... no."

The director said, "In fact, Tears of the Innocent is Colin's second appearance in a significant role in a feature film, or indeed any professional acting capacity."

"Well.... yes," admitted Mrs. Welles. "But he's only fourteen!"

"True," said the director. "All in all, a fine list of accomplishments for one so young." Mrs. Welles started beaming again. "But hardly a threat to the legacy of other young British actors like Freddie Bartholomew or Mark Lester."

Mrs. Welles was getting flustered, "What is your point, with all this?"

"The point, madam," said the producer, "is that while Colin is doubtlessly talented, he is also a spoiled brat. What's more, he is hardly irreplaceable."

Mrs. Welles gasped, a look of horror on her face. "Surely you can't be seriously thinking of replacing Colin?"

"We certainly are," said the director. "Colin is causing this production to fall behind the production schedule."

"What about the two weeks worth of footage you've already shot with Colin playing the lead?" said Mrs. Welles, a slight sneer on her lips. "Surely you can't afford to waste all that time and film?"

"This is a ten week long shoot," said the producer. "Considering the amount of time and money Colin has cost us so far with his arrogance and disruptions, we feel it could be more economical to replace Colin and reshoot all of his character's scenes with a better behaved actor in the role."

"I see," said Mrs. Welles, stiffly. "So the decision has already been made, has it? Colin will lose his first starring role in a motion picture, and there is nothing I can say or do to change your mind."

The director shook his head and said, "Actually, there is one thing you can agree to, that will allow Colin to continue in the role..."

Colin was less than pleased when he heard about the bargain his mother had made. When he found out that the alternative was to be fired from the film, he was tempted to accept that consequence. But after a great deal of argument his mother finally talked him into agreeing. They would shoot the caning scene in the headmaster's office one final time.

The director cleared the set of all non-essential personnel. The makeup person who specialized in simulating the marks of caning was excluded from the list of essential personnel, much to her surprise. The director and the cinematographer rearranged the cameras so they would be able to film Colin's facial reactions and the action "in the rear" at the same time. There would be only one take of this performance.

Finally the technical aspects were all in readiness, and the actors were back in position. They were taking it from where Alan Tetley's character, Trevor Atkinson, had just returned to stand next to Colin's character, George Langdon, after being caned.

"Lights! Camera!"

Once the cameras were up to speed, the clapper-loader held the clap board in front of the lens of the main camera and said, "Tears of the Innocent, Scene 28b, Take 1." Clap!

The director waited a beat, then said, "ACTION!"

"Langdon, you're next," said the headmaster.

Colin, in character as George Langdon, reluctantly moved to the back of the chair and stood with his hands at his sides.

"Alright, boy. Trousers down."

Colin had no trouble keeping a mischievous grin from his lips this time as he undid the buttons on his grey short trousers and lowered them, revealing a pair of plain white y-front briefs.

"Pants down."

Colin hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his briefs and lowered them to his ankles. He then stood ramrod straight, his hands at his sides.

"Bend over the chair."

Colin complied, stretching forward to grasp the front edge of the seat of the wooden chair. This had the effect of presenting the boy's firm, round bottom perfectly to receive the unwanted attentions of the cane.

The headmaster, with an ease born of vast experience, used the tip of the cane to flip the tail of the bending boy's shirt up and out of the way. He lightly pressed the cane against the middle of the presented backside to aim, then said, "Count the strokes as you receive them, Langdon."

"Yes, sir," said Colin. His bottom twitched and clenched in anticipation.

The headmaster took a huge backswing and then... Swwwssh.. Thwacck!

The director had monitors for all the cameras in operation. The look on Colin's face as he experienced the first real cane stroke of his life was priceless.

"One, sir."

The headmaster aimed higher, took his backswing and then... Swwwssh.. Thwacck!

"Two, sir."

The tramline from the first stripe was just reddening up nicely, while the second cut was still a band of white above it.

The headmaster aimed lower, took his backswing and then... Swwwssh.. Thwacck!

"Sssss." Colin hissed. "Three, sir."

Two parallel red tramlines now graced the white bottom, with a band of white below it. The bottom clenched and trembled as it coped with the pain it was absorbing.

The headmaster aimed still lower, took his backswing and... Swwwssh.. Thwacck!

"Owwww!" protested Colin, the pain getting to him at last. "Four, sir."

The three red tramlines were joined by a white band just at the crease where the buttocks met the tops of the thighs.

The director was impressed with the retired headmaster's accuracy. Swwwssh.. Thwacck!

"OOoowwww!" yelped Colin, his hands clutching the chair seat in a death grip. "Sssss....... Five, sir."

The fifth stroke had landed in the middle of the bottom on top of an existing stripe. The director could tell that Colin was in genuine agony now. He glanced at Alan Tetley, who had just realized that the caning he was witnessing was not an act. The look on his face was priceless. The director was suddenly sorry he didn't have a camera on Alan.

The headmaster aimed for the crease again. Swwwssh.. Thwacck!

"OOOooowwwww!" howled Colin, tears springing to his eyes, showing up beautifully on the close up monitor. "Sss..six, sir."

The director noticed a gleam in the eyes of the headmaster that wasn't there during Alan's fake caning earlier in the day. The headmaster shifted position slightly. Swwwssh.. Thwacck!

"NOOOoooooo!" protested Colin, as the cane struck diagonally across the six previous stripes from the top of the left cheek to the bottom of the right. His right leg actually kicked back involuntarily, but the boy got the errant limb back under control and in its proper position. After at least 15 seconds he managed to gasp out, "Ss..seven, sir."

The director was actually becoming a bit alarmed by the severity of the caning. As an American, he had never witnessed anything more severe than a few paddlings in school. He glanced at Alan Tetley again, and it looked like the boy was about the be sick.

The headmaster shifted position again. Swwwssh.. Thwacck!

"OOOWwwwww! Acch!" howled Colin, as the cane struck for a third time in the crease between the buttocks and thighs. That area was turning an unpleasant shade of purple. It was clear, from the way the buttocks above the purple stripe quivered and clenched, that Colin was finding the experience unpleasant as well. It was nearly thirty seconds before the panting boy was able to gasp out, "Ee..eight, sir."

The director thought, for one horrible moment, that the headmaster was going to exceed the eight strokes that had been agreed upon for this caning. But it quickly became apparent that he was just allowing himself, and the camera, time to admire his work. And what a masterpiece it was.

The angry purple weal that now defined the crease between the tops of Colin's legs and the bottom of his backside seemed to divide the canvass. Above the purple stripe there was now on exhibit a collection of bright red tramlines, with one severe stripe in the middle where a new stripe had overlapped an older one, and the seventh stripe cutting across the rest on the diagonal. Below the purple dividing line were the snowy white tops of Colin's thighs, marred only by a single livid mark at the top of his right thigh where the tip of the cane dug into the flesh - quite painfully, it looked - on the diagonal stroke.

The closeup of Colin's face showed a boy in genuine distress. His face was nearly as red as his backside and the tears flowed freely down his cheeks, although the brave lad had not started sobbing, much less bawling. He was still gasping from the cumulative pain of the trashing he had endured. It was an amazing moment, with Colin Welles no longer looking like the cocky young brat who had plagued the production for the past two weeks.

Finally the headmaster broke the spell of the incredible moment by saying, "Alright, Langdon, get up."

Colin was a trooper and stayed in character, very slowly getting up from the chair, holding his hands at his side. The hands clearly wanted to move to massage the sting from his wounded backside, which was still clenching from the pain, but he kept them under control.

"Get dressed, lad," said the headmaster. The man had a small, inscrutible grin on his face as he watched the boy comply with the order.

Colin was extremely careful as he gingerly pulled up his y-fronts over his now dangerously swollen backside. The grimace he made as the cloth slid across the stripes on his bottom was a testament to how painful those stripes truly were. The director was glad to see that his camera operators were working to keep Colin in frame and in focus as he moved.

Soon Colin had pulled up his grey school shorts, buttoned them, and then slowly moved back to stand next to Alan Tetley. The cameras focused in on the faces of Alan and Colin as the headmaster gave his post caning "you'd better start behaving unless you want to wind up back here in the same position again" speech.

Finally the headmaster dismissed the two well-chastened lads, who quickly took the opportunity to leave his office. As soon as the office door closed, the director yelled, "CUT!"

(Two months later.)

The wrap party for Tears of the Innocent was in full swing. A movie production is a very tense place to work, so wrap parties are a chance for everybody to blow off a little steam after it's over.

The director and producer were discussing the previous six months of their lives. The two men had been through a lot together, throughout the casting process, pre-production, and then ten weeks of principal photography.

"We had a rocky start, didn't we?" said the English producer, who was sipping English ale.

"We sure did," said the American director, who was drinking fine French wine. "I'm used to that, of course."

The two men laughed. The director was one of the most respected in Hollywood - and around the world, but he did not have a reputation for helming trouble-free productions. Tears of the Innocent would do nothing to improve his reputation in that area.

"We got there in the end, though," said the producer. "Didn't we?"

"Absolutely!" agreed the director. "Even Colin worked out well in the end."

"Yes he did," said the producer, who chuckled at the pun.

The underage members of the cast weren't able to stay at the party long. They didn't seem to consider this a major disappointment, since they couldn't have any of the freely flowing alcohol in any event. Not that certain "adult" members of the cast would have been adverse to slipping them a quick little drink, but the children were all chaperoned by at least one parent each, so that form of bending the rules wasn't gonna happen.

Before he left the party, Colin made a point of stopping by to shake hands with the producer and director. His mother hovered off in the distance - she had already said her goodbyes to the two men.

"I wanted to thank you both for giving me this opportunity," said Colin, "and for sticking with me no matter how difficult I was."

"You're quite welcome, lad," said the producer. He shook hands with Colin, then clapped him gently on the shoulder and said, "You did a fine job in your first starring role."

"Thank you, sir," said Colin. Then he turned to director. "And I wanted to apologize to you once last time."

"No need, my boy," said the director.

"Yes there is!" said Colin firmly. "I was acting like a right little beast before... well, you know."

"Yeah, I guess you were at that," said the director. "You were mostly a lot better after that scene."

"Mostly, yes," agreed Colin. "When I did start to backslide a couple weeks ago, would you really have promoted one of my off-screen canings to an on-screen one if I hadn't shaped up?"

"Possibly," said the director. "The screenwriter wasn't too keen on the idea anyway, although the headmaster was certainly willing."

"I can believe that!" said Colin, ruefully. "I'm certainly glad the headmaster at my real school isn't anything like him!"

The director smiled at that. He had been shocked at how much better behaved all the boys in the cast had been after that incident, particularly Colin and Alan. The reality of the punishment was supposed to remain a secret, yet rumours had started circulating around the set almost immediately.

Given the amazing effectiveness of this single caning, the director thought that all the lads in the cast could probably benefit from having their real headmasters give them a good pants-down caning when they deserved it. All he said to Colin was, "Well, fortunately for everyone, you did shape up."

"Yeah."

"In fact you're shaping up to be a fine young actor. I expect to see you around the Academy Awards ceremony some day, at the very least as a nominee."

"Thanks, Francis," said Colin, "for everything."

As they shook hands, the director said, "You're quite welcome, Colin."