The Taste of Soap

    Daddy washed my mouth out with soap for the first time this morning.  Let me begin by saying that just last night Daddy had said that he was tired of my cursing.  Admittedly I can sound like a sailor on shore leave at times...but I somehow view this as my way of releasing the pressure that would otherwise cause me to explode.  But Daddy said that he had been lenient about it long enough and that it was time for me to learn.  He told me that if I was to curse again, that he would wash my mouth out with soap.
     Smash cut to...getting out of bed this morning. Both Daddy and I had woken up grumpy and tired, which is never a good thing.  We started arguing almost immediately about anything and everything. Then I made the mistake of actually calling my Daddy a curse word.  He grabbed me by the shoulders, picked me up and forced me into the bathroom despite my fighting him all the way.  He forced the bar of soap in my mouth and held it there.  He then pulled it out as it scraped against my teeth. I use a pink rose scented bar soap in our bathroom and it made my mouth taste like pot pourri... highly unpleasant.
     I rinsed and spit until all of the soap was out of my mouth, but now the inside of my mouth was squeaky and felt, well, for lack of a better word...polished.  It was not enjoyable.  And yet...
     I did not STOP there.  I actually felt it necessary to keep arguing (and cursing) thereby bringing on round two of the soap.  This time was even worse than before.  There was so much soap stuck in my teeth that it took forever to get it out.  Even after I had gotten all of the soap out of my mouth, the taste wouldn't go away for well over two hours.
    I will try VERY hard to think about my words and not use language that is unbecoming to a lady.  It's just that when I get mad, I tend to just say whatever pops into my head.  Not always smart!  But I will do my best to "clean up" my act and to make my Daddy proud of me.