Grandpa Lindsey had an outhouse, and every Halloween it would get tipped over as a prank. Grandpa saw nothing funny about it and was ready to cut loose with a load of rock salt into the kids' behinds if he ever caught them.
He tried everything to keep that privy upright. Stayed up and kept watch, put the dog out, you name it, he tried it, to no avail.
"Those dang kids! I'd like to tan their hides!" I thought the whole thing was funny as all get out, but I sure didn't let Grandpa know that! Dad would sit and listen to the old fellow rant and rave.
"Yes sir, Mr. Lindsey! Sure is a shame. Doggone kids got no respect, and that's a fact."
Grandpa grumbled "I got my shotgun by the door. A dose of rock salt oughta calm those little hellions down!"
"Yes, sir! That should do the trick," Pop answered with a laugh.
The next morning poor Grandpa called and asked Dad to come help him set his outhouse back up. He was mad as a hornet! "I must have dozed off, and around ten I heard a thud. They was gone by the time I found my glasses. Decent kids should be abed at that late an hour!" My dad tried hard not to laugh, but as he lifted that outhouse off the ground I couldn't help but see his ear to ear grin.
"Bill! Take me to Pirtle's Hardware! I'll show em'! Yes, sir. I got me an idea that will fix their little red wagons!"
We hopped in Pop's old Chevy pickup and off we went. Gramps bought eye bolts, clamps, guide wire, and several bags of quick mix cement under Mr. Pirtle's watchful eye.
Mr. Pirtle grinned as Grandpa piled his stuff on the counter. "Kids still knocking your privy over, Marvin?" Pop chuckled, and Grandpa stared. I just bit my lip and tried hard not to laugh.