Letters from Nikolaevsk

Annitta

12-12-98 -- The Outhouse

Hi from the snow-up to the fence posts village:

One of Fred's quackers made a break for it today. I call her Carol Channing and she had managed to get a reprieve from that big freezer in Fred's shed. Carol is a pure white duck who liked, during the summer, to hide out in my shed from Fred's kids and in the evening she would waddle back home.

Of course this Fred is the very one who has a cousin who used to work in mines and handle dynamite. Of course Fred's cousin was sober at the time. Winter before last one of the last standing outhouses froze up. Now, there is nothing worse than a Russian who has GOT to GO. A gathering took place and all decided to get Fred's cousin to solve the problem. He did work deep underground and all that. Yes, to us it makes no sense at alll, but to a group of Russian males just coming off of a religious fast and celebrating, it made perfect sense.

Well, Alec poked his head in and after surveying the frozen whatnots in the bottom, decided that half a stick of dynamite would do the trick. Alec hadn't worked in dynamite, since, well, since before anyone could actually remember, but he was the expert. Alec, had never cut a half of dynamite in his life and didn't do that time either. He just lit and threw. It was hands down the best show - bar none. Not even Fred's steam shed that burnt down scattering naked male Russians on a moonlite winter night of windchill factor of minus ten could match it.

Russians and what-nots moved at high velocity. When the dust settled... ok...when the whatnots settled, and the Russians re-assembled, and when it was safe to stand out in the open, all congratulated Alec on what a great job he had done. Of course, the rest of the lavatory has never been found and on warm days, a certain perfume de what-nots circulates. As for the poor guy with no outside plumbing? He moved in with Fred until springtime.

Bless,

annitta

from downtown sinking fast is an ocean of snow Nikolaevsk