Monday, October 20, 2008

Revenge is Sweet, Except for When It's Stinky

On Friday, school was closed, so I took all three of the kids for a walk. It was a perfect fall day: leaves crunching under our feet, the air brisk but not too cold. The mums that I planted from seed this spring actually flowered, which nearly gave me a heart attack from shock. We walked down the street to the small park near our house, where there are paths galore for us to walk in. Son wanted to go pretend hunting. With a light saber.

Those poor ducks.

Anyway, we turned the corner to see the stand of trees in all their glorious color, the wind rustling their branches in a come hither sort of way. And then I saw it.

The porta potty.

I get the giggles every time I see one, and there's a very good reason for it. Let me take you back to the early 90s, when I was graduating from high school. We decided to have my graduation party at the lake down the street from my house. You couldn't swim in the lake without little fishies nibbling at your leg hair (it didn't matter how much you shaved... those little buggers were obstinate), and we had an in ground pool at our house, so I'm not exactly sure what the rationale was for that decision, but who cares? We were partying at the lake.

I was obviously excited about said party for many reasons, not the least of which was that my boyfriend was coming back from college to attend. We'd been dating for a year, only he was at college and I was at home. That fall, I followed him to college and immediately broke up with him because I quickly learned that he was a couple of fries short of a Happy Meal.

He was the one that got the cue ball stuck in his mouth. But somehow this didn't clue me in until I saw it up close and personal.

Anyway, we went down to the lake the morning of the party to set things up. And there we saw it: Someone had torched the porta potty. Now, porta potties aren't exactly flammable, but they aren't really fire resistant either. So it kind of melted and slumped over sideways. It smelled pretty much what you'd expect burnt poop to smell like.

So we had to call the lake association for an emergency porta potty delivery. They got right on it, I'm happy to say, and the porta potty gods smiled down upon us, and lo, a new blue, non-melty potty of goodness was delivered mere minutes before my party was to begin. I took all my guests on tours to show them the melty potty and the new potty of the gods. They were impressed. Some of them took pictures, but I can't seem to find any of them right now.

What I want to know is who I pissed off, because everyone knew that my party was going to be there. And what on earth made them desire to take revenge by torching my potty. Because really, what kind of evil genius dry-washes his hands and says, "I shall torch her potty! Bwahahahaha!"?

It's my potty and I can cry if I want to. Except that I was too busy giggling.

20 comments:

Tiny T said...

Those poor ducks! My sister and I would just chase the ducks to watch them fly. Although one time we cornered one of the ducklings and then it wasn't so fun. WE got chased then!

It takes a special kind of evil genius to decide to torch a potty.

keri mikulski :) said...

Torch a potty? I've heard of tipping a potty, but never torching. :) You should turn this into a children's book. Hmm.. The Mystery of the .... :) Good thing it was empty. Can you imagine being stuck in a burning porta potty?

C.R. Evers said...

- a boyfriend w/ a cue ball stuck in his mouth

- melted potty's

no wonder you write! This stuff has to come out somewhere! :0)

Jamie Eyberg said...

I think I knew your ex, 'cause not many people have the talent of getting a pool ball in their mouth, He must come from a very small gene pool.

Catherine J Gardner said...

I just realised something, I've never smelled burnt poop. :)

slhastings said...

OMG! I have a scene with a torched porta-potty in my novel. Seriously. It's what happens when you're trying to run away from the fire breather...

Weirdness.

Michele Thornton said...

Strangely, I have no expectations about what burnt poop would smell like.

Here in Oregon, there's a company that has seen fit to call their pottys "Honeybuckets".

There aren't many things that can make me laugh and gag at the same time, but that's one of 'em.

adrienne said...

I could live without a potty melt...
Pretty impressed about your mums, though!

K.C. Shaw said...

Maybe someone thought it was "torcha-potty" instead of "porta-potty." Come on, it's the kind of mistake anyone could make.

Carrie Harris said...

Tiny T: Yeah, it was kind of funny to watch him rush the pond, screaming a battle cry, light saber held up high... and then all of the ducks quacking at him angrily as they flew away.

Keri: The Mystery of the Burnt Porta Potty? HAH!!!

Christy: Yeah, it's cheaper than therapy. ;)

Jamie: Well, he wasn't inbred. But otherwise... er... yeah. I can't argue with that.

Cate: You haven't missed much. I don't think they'll be making a perfume or anything.

slhastings: If the fire breather sets fire to a porta potty, I hope I'll at least get a free copy of the book or something. SNARF.

Michele: You think they came up with that name themselves, or did they hire someone to do that? ;)

adrienne: I knew you'd appreciate the flowers. :) They're a really pretty deep red color, too.

KC: Torcha... porta. Tomato... tomahto. I get what you're saying.

Brenda said...

Does burnt poop from a torched potty smell the same as torched poop in a brown bag left on someone's door step? I just want to know if I have smelled burnt poop before...grin ;)

Big Plain V said...

You probably don't know that I'm a Gulf War veteran.

While we were deep in the deserts of Saudi Arabia, we had this strict agreement about not burying our 'waste'. Honest to God, we had to put it all in a barrell, mix it with gasoline, set it on fire, and stir it until nothing was left but ashes. AND POOP'S NOT THAT FLAMMABLE!

As a happy-go-lucky nineteen-year-old private, $#it-burning was my job once a week.

Carrie Harris said...

Brenda: It was kind of the same, except that with the potty there was an undertone of burnt plastic. Ugh. :)

BPV: I can make fun of a lot of things, but military service ain't one of them. Poop stirrer... now THAT I can make fun of. HAH!

sruble said...

OMG! I don't think it was personal. I think some idiot just thought, "I wonder what happens if you set a port-potty on fire?" And that was that.

Happy your party turned out ok ... hope the duck are all ok too.

Kelly said...

Can't say I've ever smelled burnt poop before! You've led quite an interesting life, Carrie! :0)

Bringerofbrains said...

Strange people compile strange enemies....

Bringerofbrains said...

Oh, by the way.... that screen name was only a cameo appearance... What do you think of my new identity?

bloggingexperiments said...

LOL...LOL...LOL!!! Carrie that is hilarious.

I have a friend that when we go walking along the beach, she ALWAYS has to make a pit stop. So as soon as the pota potty comes into view we all say, "Hey, there's your friend Andy Gump!" Andy Gump is the company name stamped like wallpaper on the sides of the structure.

I just keep wondering why the heck she can't go before we leave her house. Or maybe she runs to Andy every time...ACK! That's a disgusting thought.

Abi

Carrie Harris said...

sruble: I'm sure you're right. But it's funnier to imagine that the potty burning was all about me. ;)

Kelly: You're not missing out on much. TRUST me.

BOB (bringer of brains): Well, there's always a place of fondness in my heart for Timmit. I think the funniest part of the new name is that it's true. Once upon a time, I could have been Receiver of Brains. HAH!

Abi: ICK! I've never met anyone who actually WANTED to use one of those things.

Lina said...

I hate porta potties! Do you know how hard it is to try and balance in one of does so you don't touch anywhere wihle having a wee!? Not nice...or easy. Then again it would be worse if you had to go and couldn't even found one of them. So I'd never burn one. Don't think it was personal, only some mad person being bored.