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Posted by Franz [4.156.234.10] on Thursday, November 04, 2010 at 01:43:55 :
In Reply to: Burn them in the wood stove? posted by David Sherman [72.47.9.228] on Wednesday, November 03, 2010 at 23:10:02 :
Now, the way I heard that story, and I did hear it sort of second hand, so I can't vouch for the truth one way or another.
The service station trade was slow
Sherman sat around, With sharpened knife and cedar stick Piled shavings on the ground.
No modern facilities had they, the log across the rill Led to a shack, marked His and Hers.
"Where is the ladies restroom, sir?"
Sherman leaning back, Said not a word
but nodded toward the shack.
With quickened step she entered there
But only stayed a minute, Until she screamed, just like a snake Or spider might be in it.
With startled look and beet red face
She bounded through the door And headed quickly for the car Just like three gals before.
She missed the foot log - jumped the stream
Sherman gave a shout As her silk stockings, down at her knees Caught on a sassafras sprout.
She tripped and fell - got up, and then
In obvious disgust, Ran to the car, stepped on the gas, and faded in the dust.
Of course we all desired to know what made the gals all do the things they did, and then we found the whittling Sherman knew.
A speaking system he'd devised to make the thing complete, he tied a speaker on the wall beneath the toilet seat.
He'd wait until the gals got set and then the devilish Dave would stop his whittling long enough, to speak into the mike.
And as she sat, a voice below struck terror, fright and fear,"Will you please use the other hole,We're painting under here!"
Course I suppose it might have been another Sherman.