It could have been worse, I guess, but not much.
Dave from Marlow tells about the family camp in Naples, Maine. Much loved. Every summer, the family repainted the clapboards with crankcase oil.
The camp had an outhouse and in the spring of the year, somebody dug a new pit and moved the outhouse, for obvious reasons. Gramps didn’t get the word about the move. Nature called in the middle of the night and he shuffled out to the outhouse, well, to where the outhouse used to be, and fell in the old pit. He hollered bloody murder. The boys pulled Gramps from the pit and tossed him off the end of the dock. It was April. He hollered more bloody murder.
This unfortunate incident lives on in family history, because Gramps’ hollering caused the neighbors to call the police. Who arrived shortly thereafter, sirens, blue lights and all.
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