If you asked Eddie Parker what happened on Halloween 50 years ago, he would swear on his father’s grave that he wasn’t afraid that Old Man Brown was waiting for them with a rock salt loaded shotgun on that fateful night.

“I swear he knew we was coming and was loaded for bear,” said Eddie taking a sip of his beer. “We had tipped over this outhouse the year before and he wasn’t about to let it happen again.

A small crowd has gathered around Eddie in Vinnie’s tap on a Saturday afternoon, a week before Halloween. Those sitting along the heavily varnished bar and who had heard the story before rolled their eyes or shook their heads in disbelief and turned back to a college football game on TV. They had heard this story just one too many times and all the embellishment that went along with it.

On this particular Saturday there were a few patrons who hadn’t heard the story and cajoled him with the promise of a few beers to hear him tell the story. Not that it would take too much cajoling; he loved to tell the story every year right around Halloween.

“It was cold and raining on that Halloween night,” Eddie begins in his raspy voice, “the night myself Larry, Sammy, and Bernie, better known as The Cherry Bombers decided to have one last Halloween fling before we graduated from high school.”

For four years running-ever since Eddie his cohorts starting terrorizing the community-they had become notorious for their Halloween pranks-from soaping windows to tipping over outhouses-pretty common pranks back in the late 1950s and early 1960’s in Cherry and other small communities when people still had outhouses to tip over.

However, on that fateful Halloween night 50 years ago they were about to meet their match when they pushed-literally-Floyd “Old Man” Brown too far. Brown, who had passed away in 1980 wasn’t that “old” back in 1958, he was only 50 but to everyone in town, especially the kids he was always referred to as Old Man Brown.

The “gang” had assembled at Elsie’s this popular diner for grade school and high school students on main street early in the evening for burgers and Cokes. Located just down the street from the two-story dark brick grade school that they had graduated from four years earlier, Elsie’s was the perfect starting point for their last night of Halloween shenanigans, and also good for an alibi-just in case they got arrested later and had to explain where they had been that night.

“We started off slow, just soaped a few windows and turned the metal bike rack that was in front of the grade school up on its end,” recalled Eddie. “Pretty harmless stuff. Then someone said, I think it was Sammy, God rest his soul, suggested we hit Old Man Brown’s place.”

“Sammy?” someone whispered.

“Vietnam,” one of the old-timers at the bar whispered. “Pleiku.”

There was a moment of awkward silence-reserved for such moments when you just found out that someone had died too soon in life. Eddie motioned for Jake the bartender to top off his glass. Old Style. He pauses, thinking about Sammy. Wanted to make a career out of the military. Remembers a catchy jingle for Old Style back in the 80’s – “Pure Brewed in God’s Country.” That would have been Wisconsin. Funny, that Wisconsin was God’s country.

He took another drink, remembered his place in the story.

“There were still a lot of outhouses in Cherry 50 years ago and Floyd Brown had one in his backyard. He still used his as most people did theirs. He had it all painted up really pretty like which made it all the more attractive for us to tip over which we had done the previous year.

“Well, as you can imagine he was pretty pissed about that and went around town at places like Waite’s Gulf Station and Sam’s Diner telling everyone that he was going to catch the culprits that he had done it. However, a few weeks later after he had cooled down and stood the outhouse back up, he had forgotten all about it. As for “us” culprits, we were off the hook.

Eddie took another drink.

“He must have known we had targeted his outhouse again that year because he was waiting for us,” Eddie continued. “Someone must have tipped him off.”

That someone, who was at the end of the bar, snickered-Tom “Tommy” Smith. When he was a kid he had lived next door to the Browns. Eddie shot him a dirty look. Tommy turned back to the football game.

“What happened?” asked Rich Davis, who had recently moved to Cherry from Aurora.

“Well, he was right about us coming back because he was out in it waiting for us. He figured that when we pushed it over like we had done the year before he would greet us with some rock salt from his double-barreled shotgun,” Eddie said grinning.

Some of the regulars who had heard the story before still liked to hear what happened next. This part of the story never got old.

“Except Old Man Brown never had time to get off a shot,” said Eddie. “He thought we would tip it over from the front; instead it was much easier for us to tip it over from behind. He never heard us coming.”

What happened next had passed into Cherry’s Halloween lore-at least for some of the people at the bar who had heard the story and had known Eddie and his gang. When they tipped the outhouse over, they tipped it too hard and it knocked Brown feet first into the open septic hole filled with months of putrid excrement. And in a flash of lightning, that was what Eddie and the others saw-an angry Old Man Brown shoulder deep in that septic hole. Fortunately for them the shotgun was out of Brown’s reach.

“That’s right, standing shoulder-deep in all his crap or someone else’s crap,” laughed Eddie. “He was so pissed and I swear we could see his face turning red in the darkness. We were laughing so hard we nearly pissed our pants.”

Everyone around the bar laughed.

“I’ll never forget that expression on his face,” added Eddie. “It was one of shock, anger, horror-all rolled up into one very pissed off man.”

“What did you guys do,” asked Rich sheepishly, as though he should have known what happened next. “Did you go back to Elsie’s-you know, to make your alibi stick?”

“Well, we could see that he was okay. It was a good thing we had pushed it from behind. Maybe if we had pushed it from the front he would have fallen in head first,” said Eddie grinning. “We just took off running and went home. The next day the sheriff came around. Old Man Brown hadn’t gotten a good look at us but he figured it was us. Except he couldn’t prove it.”

Tommy Smith, down at the end of the bar grunted and motioned for Jake to get him another beer.

“The sheriff gave us a stern warning. That’s all he could do,” said Eddie. “Well, we must have been too much for Old Man Brown because the following summer that outhouse came down once and for all.”

“What that was some story,” Rich said. “It was a good thing you did push it from behind.”

“That’s right,” added Eddie, “Otherwise I am sure myself and the others would still be carrying some rock salt scars.”

“Thanks for telling it again,” said Jake smiling as he brought Eddie another beer.

Eddie smiled and nodded.

“Don’t you ever get tired of telling that story?” asked Tommy Smith who had moved down the bar and now stood behind Eddie.

“Not as long as I know it still pisses you off that we didn’t get caught that night,” said Eddie grinning.