Uncle Tom . . . . . . speaks from The Outhouse . . . .

Tales of tales, or whatever, Uncle Tom only tells you things that you cannot afford to not know. . .

   Well, I rekon if you never had the pleasure of visiting that yesteryear house of nature's domain, yore shore in fer a serprise.

   My fondest memories come from the trips we made down that 106 feet path to that cypress board and tin roofed relief parlor, especially in the winter time when the wind was howling worse than a pack of dogs listening to my Aunt Cleo attempting to sing "Yore cheating Heart", and they were trying to get in tune with her. Course when you made it to that air conditioned outhouse, you shore didn't want to tary very long with that cold air hitting those exposed parts, so it didn't take you long to take care of business. One good thing about wintering in the outhouse, you didn't have to worry about those black widow spiders that lived under the boards next to the hole cause they wuz in hibernation during those cold winter months, although in summer that is a nuther story.

  You know, that 106 feet to the outhouse didn't seem long at all until Monroe, Cletus and me happened to find some chocolates that Grandpa had bought up at Dan Adams Commissary and he left them on the table. Well us old mean boys had a terrible disagreement over who got what, and me being the smallest, I got the least. But that Chocolate (which we later found out was Ex-Lax) turned that 106 foot path into a 3 mile (would you make it?) run. We runneded over chickens, dogs, an old sow and 6 pigs and our legs hurt so bad the next day we couldn't even think about nothing but never eating chocolate again.  We also had severe rash on our butts from all those corn cobs we used that day. It took us three days to put all that corn in a bucket that we shelled trying to get them corn cobs in a hurry. Thank god we had two holes at one time, but I can assure you there weren't enough room for three mean old boys at the same time. That whole day we coulda ourunned any track star you ever heard uf, and you talk about getting those overalls down in a hurry. . .  Thank god I only got 2 pieces of that chocolate.

Chickens in the Outhouse

My Grandpa was a smart man, one of the few people I knowed that didn't work his whole life away, why he was just as happy setting around the old fishin hole, rolling him one of his Prince Albert cigarettes with those OCB papers and catching as many fish as he wanted to tote back to the house. Most of the fish he caught wuz kinda sized big, like one day he came home with 642 fish in one big mouth quart jug. He had a special way of cooking them, why all he done wuz get the grease hot, bread them fish, then throw them in the grease and when they wuz done, he ate them guts, eyeballs, bones and all. He kinda cooked them pretty brown, said he couldn't even find any of the bones in those fish.   Anyway, back to the chickens in the outhouse.

    Seems Grandpa had to build a new outhouse, usually it took about 10 years for one to totally get run down to the point of where something had to be done and when that time came  Grandma would tell him he could go someplace to stay, so naturally Grandpa got a urge to do some building, and as always us old mean younguns got to help, whether we like it or not.

    Well, due to the number of family members who were always around Grandpa and Grandma's place, Uncle Clayt (Grandpa) decided to build a double hole outhouse. Lord did we get excited, why, we even tried to get him to build an 8 hole outhouse, where we could invite all our friends and the whole group could go in the outhouse and harmonize together. This would surely be a family event to remember over the next millinium.  But we were all overruled, and we commenced the process of rounding up enough boards and old used tin to build the double hole outhouse. We finally nailed our first board around 1:15 in the evening, and shortly with the used tin, we had a outhouse almost completed, except for cutting the holes in those two wide boards for the seat. We had done nailed down those two boards, and Grandpa being the carpenter, commenced cutting out the first hole, and all us mean ole boys had to sit down on the board til grandpa was satisfied with the size hole he needed cutting. Needless to say, all our butts were different sizes, and naturally grandpa wanted the hole to be big enough to accommodate all these rear ends, without having it so big that someone would fall in the hole, Lord pray that don't ever happen to any of you.

    Grandpa got the first hole cut out to specifications according to butt size, then all of a sudden, there was a bull bat flying above us, and he was hollering real loud. When Gramps heard the bat hollering in the daytime, why he threw down his saw, went to the barn, got the shovel, and begin to dig for some worms, while all us ole mean boys tagged right along. He told us that when those bats hollered in the daytime, it was time to go fishing, so we got our worms, put them in a PA (Prince Albert tobacco can), then runneded out to the edge of the road and got us some sand and put in with those earthworms. That wuz to keep them from being so slick when you put them on the hook--it always worked.

    So off to the creek we went, 5 ole mean boys and grandpa to ketch us some fish.

    While we wuz gone somebody else wuz exploring the outhouse. Grandpa's old fighting roosters had found the one holer, which wuz sposed to be a two holer, and immediately General Lee, the head of the fighting rooster clan, claimed the spot under the seat where there wuz no hole. Why we found out that he would be so quiet when you went to take care of business in the outhouse, til you had sit down for a minute or two, then he would attack what was in the hole, yore butt, and you wouldn't have time to think about grabbing a corn cob, cuz the job was finished before it got started. The rooster would come out of that hole and chase you till you got a stick and beat him off you.  Grandma made grandpa put a stick by the door of the outhouse, so you could go in there and poke that stick down in the hole and beat the rooster outn the hole before you partaked of taking care of yore business.

To be continued . . . . . . .

    You can believe my stories as long as you want to, they are all true, although I don't put my "real" stories on the web. Soon there will be a CD available for sale, containing some of the most unbelievable tales that you can imagine . . . . ALL TRUE! ! ! ! !

More to come . . . . .

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