Here's a campfire story that my kids always enjoyed and it's true. It goes like this:
So back in the day, me and my buddy, Lefty Smelzenberger, decided to go out for a late night hike. We hiked for a few miles and got well out into the country and it got real dark. Soon enough, Lefty and I knew we were lost and needed to find a place to stay for the night. Lefty spotted lights in the distance so we headed there. Sure enough it was an old farmstead. Finally, and with some trepidation, we knocked on the door. The farmer answered the door - we explained our predicament and the farmer let us in. The farmer, Old Man Johnson, told us that he had one spare room upstairs and one spare room on the main floor. Lefty said he would sleep on the main floor. We were both very thankful and said our goodnights to Old Man Johnson. I climbed the stairs, and by the time I crawled into bed I noticed that my stomach was growling real bad. Anyway, later that night, in the wee hours, I had to take a dump really, really bad - problem was, I didn't know where the bathroom was. Being the smart fella I am, I figured I would take a dump in my pillow case and then I threw it down the laundry shoot. What relief! Anyhow, the next morning I awoke, went downstairs and woke Lefty up. I asked him how his sleep was. He said, "not bad but, in the middle of the night a ghost
What?......A ghost what?????