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The Old Outhouse
The service station trade was slow
The owner sat around,With sharpened
knife and cedar stick Piled shavings
on the ground.No modern facilities
had they,The log across the rill
Led to a shack, marked His and Hers
That sat against the hill."Where is
the ladies restroom sir?"The owner
leaning back,said not a word but whittled on,
And nodded toward the shack.With quickened
step she entered there But only stayed a
minute,Until she screamed,
just like a snake Or spider might be in
it.With startled look and beet red face
She bounded through the door,And
headed quickly to the car Just
like three gals before.She missed the footlog
jumped the stream The owner gave a shout As her
silk stockings, down at her knees Caught on a
sassafras sprout.She tripped and fell got up,
and then In obvious disgust,Ran to the car,
stepped on the gas, And faded in the dust.
Of course we all desired to know What made
the gals all do The things they did,and then we
found The whittling owner knew.A speaking
system he'd devised To make the thing complete,
He tied a speaker on the wall Beneath the toilet
seat.He'd wait until the gals got set And then the
devilish tike, Would stop whittling long enough,
To speak into the mike.And as she sat a voice below
Struck terror, fright and fear,"Will you please
use the other hole,We're painting under here!"
Author Unknown To Me
Thank you,DeDe for sending
this cute little story to me
Name of Midi Playing
"Every Breath You Take"
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Copyrighted ©August4,2003 by Shirley
All rights reserved
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