Aiden and Jackson are on vacation, when they are pulled over for speeding in a small, Midwest American town. The officers (Alex and Riley) are not amused by their attempts to evade responsibility, and Aiden’s attempt to pass off a New Jersey PBA card only increases their annoyance. While Riley escorts Jackson to retrieve his ID, Alex teaches Aiden a painful, local lesson in discipline.
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Aiden and Jackson realize they’re a ‘spoiled rotten’ generation, the first of their Asian families raised in and by softy city-slicker standards of New England, no longer the Confucian code that saw their ancestors sternly scolded, stripped and soundly spanked as strict Sirs said, merciless martyry manifold met with meekly mounted male mounds in humble gratitude, backtalk still was unthinkable for their fathers. Their dear daddies barely smack them fully dressed, accepting they show reasonable respect and get passing grades, yet worry as the entitled knaves no longer strive for excellence going each extra mile, lacking piety like their Western schoolmates, whom their elders would consider ignorant, insolent barbarians, utterly unfit role-models.
So shame and -formally- distance kept the fathers from attending family reunions with their brats in the Midwest, but(t) as the boys only seem to get out of hand ever worse, the softy-sires set-up the long summer holiday to be spent with their grim grandfathers, a month each, ‘leaving out’ that will be ‘painfully old-school Confucian-customary,’ implying they’ll be strictly scripted, checked, scolded, stripped and savagely spanked severely-sorely-sorry, sort of catching up with years of overdue ordeals of doleful-derriere-discipline, ignorance is no excuse for anything as their daddies did tell them in detail about their endless upended comeuppances cruelly criss-cross-colouring clothless-cur-cones crimson to consummate compliant kids’ contrition.
Gramps Ha Kim, who still runs a small ranch in a Kansas cowboy backwater, is to receive and re-educate the rascals ruthlessly-rapidly by relentless rebel-rears-red-raw-rod-ravaging, relying on his formidably-forceful foreman Frank to flail the filial-filial fuckup-fool-fannies furnace-firmly and frightfully-frequently for foppish flaws and faults, the focus fixed on furthering full fear of the ‘fatherly’ flail’s flaming fanny-flogging.
Fortunately, fanny-flailing-fond foreman Frank is a friend of the finest cop in the county, ‘comrade constable’ Alex, and tipped him off the couple of cocky curs could come by car and commit contemptible crimes, counselling to crack-down on their cones, contributing to commence their Confucian code compliance compelling for the comfort of the cowboys comrades. Frank and Alex themselves were raised by savagely-severe Southern-born fathers, who sent them to the strictest school, where the paddle remains a daily tool of education, feared by buddies-beheld butt-beatable brats, but(t) not nearly as badly as by those who knew, like them, the note in their school agenda would guarantee way-worse woodshed-workovers, whipped wickedly-well wriggling worm-wise. The mates always dreamed of turning the tables on thrashable-teen-tails, part of their career-choices, preferably in some joint scheme, which now offers itself, with arthritis-affected uncle Ha’s bitter bad-boy-bottom-blistering-blessing: as cop Alex can break-in the bad-behaved brats to being butt-bared and beaten, beyond bashfulness of being boyhood-beheld by buddy and bloody bum-bottom-blisterers. Frank will invite Alex, on his days off, to join him in the woodshed to wickedly work-over the wretched wriggling worms whipping the wayward wantons half-way to hell viz. back.