He stood alone in the outhouse, his back to the door held open by his girlfriend. If not for the twelve-gauge shotgun in his hands, he would have appeared to be doing what normal people do in an outhouse. But his plans were not normal.
His companions' cheered and dared in the secluded, pristine northern California campsite. The friends were alone along the banks of the riverside campsite. In the offseason, few people braved the cold conditions, unless partying. The remote area provided privacy, a nice beach along the bank, enough wilderness to do some target practice, and a convenient outhouse. This site suited the needs of Danny and younger brothers Sam and Frank who planned the weekend outing to get back to nature, with their girlfriends.
Older, more experienced, Danny ruled the group. Stronger than his size suggested, a true outdoorsman, he was the kind of guy people followed. The kind who'd been kicked out of community college when the admissions staff discovered he hadn't bothered to graduate from high school. “Wasted four months of my life,” Danny would say. Danny seemed to draw the company of attractive women with ease. His companion this trip was Amy. Wilder than most, with no fear in her soul, she stood ready for any adventure. An adrenaline junkie, she proclaimed life was too short to live it bored.
Middle brother, Sam, more of a thinker the studious sort who, at age ten, calculated the trajectory and ricochet of a BB fired at a telephone pole, bounced it off and struck Frank in the head. The shot was legend in their family. Sam reveled in solving puzzles of all varieties; the more difficult, the greater the sense of accomplishment.
Sam brought his girlfriend Kathy to the campsite. A wonderful girl, her heart wide-open to everyone she met. Her thick black hair stationed almost a head taller than everyone else in the group, her intellect hovered well below the dimmest.
Youngest brother, Frank would rather play than work, viewed school as an excuse to play sports and date girls. Athletic, affable, with a smile that beamed likability, he slid through his youth on cruise-control, and did only as much as necessary to get by. Bore him with the mundane, and he would be lost to the lure of pretty girls or any other equipment that bounced.
Frank's girlfriend Cheryl, a quiet introspect, preferred dancing or reading good books to trapesing around in the wilderness. Athletic, carefree, and nimble, she lied to her parents to go on the weekend outing. Just the type of girl Frank admired.
During an afternoon target shoot, Sam wanted to experience the kick of Danny's ten-gauge shotgun. Kathy warned him to be careful. Afraid of the recoil, he held the shotgun away from his body, pulled the trigger. The gun flew out of his hands and landed behind him in the rocks. Sam stood frozen, his hands still clutched the now imaginary shotgun. Danny barked, “Go pick it up and clean it. Next time think about what you're doing!”
That night they sat around the campfire, the only respite from the chill of the autumn air. Frank snuggled close with Cheryl. Sam offered well-chilled beers retrieved from the near-freezing river. Danny, his personality bolder than studious, pondered the effect of firing a ten-gauge shotgun into the outhouse hole. Cheryl cautioned him, stating she thought it a bad idea. Rather than dissuading his doomed-to-fail experiment, the rest of the group's shared inebriation resulted in rousing support.
He decided it was a good idea, grabbed his weapon and strode to the outhouse. While Amy held the door open, he stood facing the open hole, shotgun at his waist, ready to fire. The others gathered nearby to witness. Danny pulled the trigger. The report boomed a concussive shock that stunned everyone. In an instant, the scene became surreal, played out in slow motion like a WWII movie. Danny stood frozen in place, as if unable to comprehend the need for retreat. His eyes followed a large column of thick, brackish muck as it rushed up to the outhouse ceiling and exploded in every direction.
The group cheered and laughed. Danny stepped out of the outhouse; they laughed without control. Splotches of fecal matter in various states of liquid and solid forms covered his blue jeans and white t-shirt. His face showed the depths of his humiliation in the smears left from wiping the sludge from his eyes. His embarrassment highlighted by bits of toilet paper that clung to the splatter from his head to his feet. He stood there resigned to his misery and announced, “I'm going for a swim; anyone want to join me?” Most declined the invitation and left him alone to brave the frigid water.
As everyone watched, Amy and Danny stripped naked and dove in.
Kathy said, “That was great.”
Sam agreed, adding, “But not smart.”
Cheryl looked at Frank and said, “We warned him. When will guys listen to girls when we say what you're doing is dumb or dangerous?”
“I'm guessing never,” replied Frank. “We're not that smart.”
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