After Grandpa got himself 'supplied up,' as he put it, we shot back to the house and he called Uncle Jim on the phone. "James Davis? Are you busy? I'd like you to help me and Bill set my outhouse."
"Why sure, Mr. Lindsey! I'd be glad to help!"
Well, my Daddy and Uncle Jim, under Grandpa's supervision, spent the rest of the day digging post holes, installing eye bolts, and stringing cable. They'd put pipe sleeves in the post holes and filled them with cement. That old outhouse was tied down tight. Gramps cackled and said, "Knock her down now, boys!" He sure was proud of himself.
All was well that first night, and Grandpa had his morning coffee on the back porch, watching the glow of the rising sun reflect off his shiny, new outhouse cables.
I stayed the next night at Grandpa's house. Pop drove me over and dropped me off. "You be good, son. I'll see you in the morning."
"I will, Pop. See you then." My old Dad sat in his truck until I reached the door, then pulled off with a smile and a wave.
Along about nine, as we got ready for bed, we heard a loud thump from behind the house. "No! It can't be!" Grandpa yelled, and ran to the door.
Sure enough, there lay his outhouse, door open to the sky, with its shiny new cables lying limp around it. "Damn kids!" Grabbing his shotgun, Grandpa shot out the door determined to administer a little down-home punishment on their behinds with a load of rock salt.
That's when things really went downhill fast for the old man. Not only had those 'mean kids' knocked his outhouse over, but they'd pulled it up the hill and thrown a dark wool blanket over the hole.
Well, Gramps found that blanket, and as he fell in, he pulled both triggers and that old shotgun roared into the night! Every light for blocks around came on, and every dog with an ounce of self respect started barking and howling furiously!