From time to time, here at the church at Cane Creek, among our young people and children, incidents develop that reflect upon their personalities and characters.
One such recent episode bears repeating, in hopes that you will be forewarned and therefore guard against a similar crisis in your community. I will admit that the children involved were too young to realize the dire consequences of their misdeed, but at what age does accountability begin?
I have hesitated to make this known publicly lest I provide further material for those who need very little to concoct juicy stories designed to cast a shadow upon our ministry. But, knowing that the story will likely leak out and cause a stink, I have decided to give you the uncensored facts before you hear a garnished version from one of our self-installed enemies. There are ample witnesses to testify to the truth of what I here write.
Recently, during a workday on a certain homestead, while the adults were preoccupied, the younger children were playing down by the stream away from the house. It was a mixture of boys and girls, all under ten years old. You know how boys and girls often compete. The boys had made a bridge across the stream and would not let the girls cross over unless they could guess the password—which they were unable to do. On the other side of the stream was a wonderful mud slide about six feet tall and very steep. I am sure it was nothing like what they have at Six Flags, but the girls thought they should share in the boy’s fun. Eventually, the girls constructed their own bridge and established a password (as the eagle flies south to Australia) which the boys were unable to break. But, even though the girls now had their own access to the other side of the stream, the boys, led by Joseph, seven years old, continued to deny the girls access to the wonderful mud slide.
As the adults later gathered to consider the events that led up to the crises, it is clear that if this kind of behavior is allowed to continue, it could lead to a bloated male ego, not to mention the female’s diminished sense of self-assertion.
As events developed, Joseph, the main culprit, felt the call of nature and departed for the outhouse (for you city-slickers that’s an outside toilet). Emily, cute as a button and small for her four years, and otherwise normally quite passive, had endured all of Joseph’s bossing she could stand. So at a discreet distance, she followed him to the outhouse. When he was securely seated inside, she slipped up and locked the door. When he got ready to leave, she was already across his bridge and sliding down his exclusive mudslide. His cries of distress, occasionally punctuated with gagging sounds, surely reached her across the field and over the creek. But I suppose her heart had been hardened by the many times of humiliation she had suffered at his uncaring hands. She continued to enjoy the slide until someone else heard the choking, pleading Joseph and released him from his steamy, fly pestering prison.
When you must avail yourself of an outhouse, you normally hold your breath the whole time. When Joseph bolted for the door and found it locked, it must have been a rather horrible experience. I am sure he will be traumatized for life. It will probably call for an entirely new field of psychiatry to treat his putraphobia.
To top it all off, the parents involved only stopped working long enough to laugh. Emily escaped with a mild reprimand that in my estimation will only encourage here in her feminist agenda.
Well, you have the whole story, as embellished as I know how. I can’t imagine how this story will sound by the time it gets around. But, let no more be said; this is a shut and open case of good country fun.