Back at my niece's house in Granite Falls I discovered that almost all country folk have an outhouse story to share. Her husband rendered this one, about the primitive acreage where he grew up: One of my brothers was always the object of our jokes. Poor kid. Our outhouse, like most in the area, had to be moved every year, and it was our job to dig the new hole and slide it on skids to the new resting place. Naturally it got older and more ramshackle each year. It was probably built of scrap lumber to begin with. One evening we decided to play a trick on my brother. He was inside the outhouse with the door closed. Quietly we built a fire on the side of the structure, planning to scare him when it started to catch. The maneuver was ill planned, for as soon as we lit the fire, it ignited the whole structure. My brother came screaming out. He was terrified but safe. It was all we could do to put out the fire. From that time on our outhouse was REALLY ramshackle.
Now that I am 80 I appreciate indoor plumbing dearly, but wonder what good stories I'm missing. If you have an outhouse story to share, I'd love to hear it.