When I was young, I wrote a lot of stories. Most of them were some sort of adventure in which I or someone like me was the star. I would sit in front of a computer or a pad of paper and write them, and Mrs. Campbell would periodically check my spelling and grammar or, rarely, offer suggestions. One such suggestion was that I should adjust the following lyrics from a song that a coven of witches were singing in one of my stories:
...ripping and raping,
killing and boiling in oil!
I do not envy anyone who has to explain to a ten-year-old that "raping" does not mean "whipping with a flail or similar torture device," which was my understanding at the time.