Paintin’ the Biffy

There’s not anyone that likes being embarrassed. As I stop and think a minute on a couple of the more uncomfortable things I’ve been through, my face gets red just thinkin’ about them. But then on the other hand, a person with a depraved criminal mind such as I have been blessed with, can somehow find glee and immense satisfaction in trapping some poor innocent soul in an embarrassing situation … IF (and only if) it can be justified in my own twisted thought patterns that they somehow have it coming.

Miss Blackstone was just such a person, bless her cold old heart. Every time I think of embarrassment, and someone who must have deserved it, she’s one of the first ones that comes to mind. I didn’t personally have anything to do with setting up her confrontation with humiliation, but it’s only because I didn’t think of it. A couple of other guys beat me to it.

Miss Blackstone was an old maid school teacher with the disposition of a cornered badger and a vile hatred for disruptive male children. In most schools I’m aware of, that constitutes approximately half of the entire student body. Her extreme detestation for the boys didn’t seem to translate into favorable treatment for the girls, either. She was just plain mean. I guess I’d have to say she was just about the perfect target.

Why in the dickens she would volunteer to help out at a church youth camp defies all logic. Although it was obvious to everyone she absolutely hated kids … there she was. To give her the benefit of the doubt (in retrospect) she probably thought she might actually have a hand in reforming some of the little monsters.

Unfortunately, even church camps seem to have their fair share of adolescent hoodlums. Usually Mom and Dad think, and probably rightfully so, that it would be a great environment and a good influence on their precious little Johnny, who at the moment seems destined to be in prison by the time he’s old enough to shave.

It was two just such inmates … oops, I mean campers ... that devised the perfect plan to dethrone and totally humiliate the ornery and sanctimonious Miss Blackstone. Boy, I wish I could have been in on this one.

This happened several years ago at a rather primitive camp back in the woods. The two boys “borrowed” the sound amplifier and a microphone from the hall where the evening meetings took place, and fastened the speaker down under the old wooden seat in the outdoor biffy. They cleverly concealed the wire from the speaker in the grass and waited in some nearby bushes for their victim to approach.

When nature calls even kings and Miss Blackstone must answer eventually, and it wasn’t long until the prim and proper lady with the snarl on her lips and a heart chiseled out of pure ice came down the faithful little path to the outdoor facility. After waiting just the proper amount of time for the lady to be about her personal business, the boys sprang into action. One of them flipped the little switch and with the deepest voice he could muster, growled into the microphone.

“Hey, lady! Do you mind movin’? We’re tryin’ to paint down here, and you’re shuttin’ off all the light!”

Miss Blackstone was immediately dethroned in more ways than one. She burst out of that biffy door on a dead run, with her disheveled wardrobe only partially intact. The normally pickle faced old prude was suddenly distraught, screaming hysterically, and was quite surprised to be greeted with the cheers and applause of a large audience of degenerate adolescent church campers gathered specifically to witness her disgraceful demise.

It couldn’t have happened to a nicer lady. I wish I’d o’ thought of that.

Keep Smilin’….

and don’t forget to check yer cinch.

Ken Overcast is a recording cowboy singer that ranches on Lodge Creek in North Central Montana where he raises and dispenses B.S. http://www.kenovercast.com