Modern folks have no idea about an outhouse zone. They came in all colors and shapes; everyone did own. Our biggest problem and nuisance was a Peeping Tom. The penalty for being caught was to be tossed to the bottom. The ideal place was behind the house near a mossy knoll. After using one, you felt good and went on a long stroll. If the town's outhouses were used at the same time; it made a fog smoke. While the others waited outside, there was some danger of a sunstroke. Some were very plush with odds and ends, including a lock. The favorite time to go was right after dinner; around six o'clock. Once inside, everyone created their own music, making it synchronize. Then everyone's aroma would go up, causing their fireworks to vaporize. The special made roof had plenty of vent holes and an air condition. To fumigate and deodorize, breaking down any stale composition. If yours was out of order, there was no charge for admission. However, you had to pay a small fee, if you went over your emission. Being very proud, everyone took very good care of their outhouse. Usually while in it, you carried on a conversation with your pet mouse. Whenever you moved, you covered the hole with a little limestone. Hoping that your careful efforts was helping to save the ozone. Copyright (c) 1995 Marva L. Dowdin
Reason for writing:
This too is from my first book of three hundred
poems. To put a smile on someone's face, whether
old or young. I have written many poems about
outhouses and many old fixtures of the past. I
am hoping that you will enjoy them.
Marva L. Dowdin
Birth sign: Not entered
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