When I tell people that my family had a house on Lake Bistineau, they look at me as if I have had some privileged life growing up. That is anything but the case. The cabin that my parents owned was really nothing more than a 1950's travel trailer that was permanently parked and that had a porch added onto it.

At one point, my Aunt Becky and Uncle Dennis moved into the cabin. They were going to live there on the cheap and, in exchange, do some work on the cabin, like put in walls where there once none, and perhaps patch the roof. One of the big projects was the plumbing.

The plumbing all ran underneath the cabin and was made of what you would think plumbing from a 1950's travel trailer be made out of. Because of years of use and hardly any maintenance, the shower had completely clogged up. Now, when I say "shower," you have to imagine a tiny little bathroom, with a corner shower unit made out of galvanized aluminum. The bathroom could fit one person in it at a time. Two...if one was in the shower. Not luxury, by any stretch, but it's what we had, and it washed lake funk off a body pretty well.

It just hadn't drained properly in half a decade.

During a drink and gripe session around the campfire in the front yard, my Uncle Dennis was discussing the shower drainage dilemma with his good friend Benny Parish. "I need to unclog that BLEEPITY BLEEPIN shower," Dennis growled between sips of Milwaukee's most mediocre brew.

Benny, who was obviously some sort of wizard engineer, said, "I got my shotgun in the truck."

Most men would have laughed it off and went about solving real problems the real way. Not these two men. They saw an opportunity to really REALLY unclog the shower. Not just unclog it...but show it who's boss so that they never have to worry about a clogged shower again.

So in the two master plumbers go, into the closet sized bathroom with the metal shower, one holding a beer, the other holding a beer and a pump action 12 gauge shotgun. Benny slipped the barrel of the gun into the shower drain, and with a determined, yet seemingly calm smile said, "You ready?" Dennis nodded.


Benny unloaded a single blast into the shower drain, wrenching anything that could have possibly been called plumbing away from the shower, and blowing it clean through the brand new hole in the bottom of the cabin's protective undercarriage.

The shower now drained, unstopped by clogs...or pipes...or anything really. It just poured onto the ground out of the gaping hole that once held the inner workings of our cabin.

Dennis and Benny couldn't hear anything for three days, because apparently setting off an explosion in a tiny metal box is detrimental to one's ear health.

But at least the shower was unclogged.

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