Well, I’m already the blog enema king. I guess I can start adding “outhouse” to my list of accomplishments too. I found this search term in my blog stats this morning:
ran out of outhouse with her pants down
That certainly is a predicament, isn’t it?
I cackled, and she looked over at me from her desk. “What?”
I showed my wife this search term. She shrugged. Shrugged, like it was no big deal. Nothing unusual. “Yeah, so?” her expression said.
As the laughter choked in my stunned throat and the smile drained like bath water from my confused mug, I blinked at her. “Don’t you … isn’t that funny?”
“Not really. Why would it be?”
“Well — I mean, under what circumstances would someone be running out of the outhouse without their pants?”
“Lots of ’em,” she said flatly. “Maybe she got scared, like by a spider or mouse or rat or possum or something. Or maybe the outhouse caught fire. Maybe someone tried to tip it. Lots of reasons.”
I couldn’t get my head around that. “Do any … you’d run out of an outhouse without your ass-covering for those reasons? I mean, a feral rat or possum, yeah, but a spider? Stand up and squash it! And who sets an outhouse on fire?? These things aren’t wooden structures like in Li’l Abner anymore, dearie. They’re generally polymer, and difficult to set aflame without accelerant and incendiary chemical intervention. Anyone going to those lengths for an outhouse DESERVES to see your bare ass.”
“I wouldn’t try to kill the spider,” she said matter-of-factly.
“Oh? You’d rather run bare-assed into a public area than take a second to pull up your pants?”
“Depends on the spider, but if it’s big enough, yeah. Frankly.”
“Well, that’s just … I mean, I’m an arachnophobe too, but c’mon! Who doesn’t kill a spider rather than just running bare-bottomed out the door of a Port-a-Potty??”
“Maybe it was down in the hole and she didn’t see it until it came up on her leg or something.”
“Are we really having this conversation? Seriously?”
“You brought it up.”
“I thought it was comedy! I thought it was hysterical that someone would run out of an outhouse without their pants! You’re telling me this makes sense to you! Are we seriously discussing this??”
“Do you still think it’s funny?”
“Well, I … I guess it … no. No, not really.”
“Then I guess I’ve proven my point.”
To the person that fled the outhouse without your pants: Sorry. I hope you’re okay.
To the person that searched for someone fleeing an outhouse without her pants: It’s not funny, jerk.