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.