As an ex Service Station operator this one had an obvious appeal.
The Old Gas Station.
The service station trade was slow.
The owner 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
That sat against the hill.
"Where is the ladies restroom, sir?"
The owner leaning back,
Said not a word but whittled on,
And 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 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 owner 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 guy,
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."
Author Unknown
2 comments:
Hi Peter ~~ This is a good one, and I needed a laugh. Too many deaths and 9/11 memories. Did you delete my 9/11 tribute on Herons Nest? It has gone anyway. While I was there I deleted the last one you had transferred. My last one was Father's Day. So I think because of the format, as well as disappearing nature of HN I will stick to TT. I am going to contact Beta and try to find out what user name & password they want, because nothing works and if I post as an other, cannot be return clicked.
Take care, Merle.
Certainly better value than the "redback" I would think. As to where the photos were on my Sunday Post, I can post invisible photos don't you know! Cheers Margaret
Post a Comment