Here at the WBS palatial hunting lodge the amenities are ....shall we say ....primitive. No electric, no running water, and of course no indoor toilet. It is all good though....you know, roughing it makes the stories so much better.......like this one .....
It is 4:30 am....the opening day of firearms season in 2003. The outdoor temperature is about 25 degrees and it is clear and frosty. I am the first one up at the cabin and I have the fire in the stove going good, the coffee pot is boiling and...... I have the call of nature. So it's grab the toilet seat and paper and head for the 5 gallon bucket behind the big round hay bale 40 yards behind the cabin.
I think I am the only one up......but I am not. When I get comfortable ......(and that is a relative term considering the conditions) .....a shreeking whistling sound of incredible volume is incoming to my position. It is like some ungodly creature escaping from Satan's Hellfire is bent on separating me from my plastic bucket. I duck and cover ( again...a relative term considering my condition)...and then a tremendous flash and explosion occurs directly over my head!
I clear my senses and hear a roar from the cabin......laughter.......oh yes.....humor.....ha ha.
It seems the guys had an arsenal of those screaming exploding rockets left over from the Fourth of July and what fun it would be to shoot them at unsuspecting victims in compromising positions. Actually ...it was pretty funny....especially when I did it to them.....
"Watch out boys...Incoming......Rockets Over the Crapper!!"
GWH
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