Lane found his septic tank so full of a solid mass that he could hardly penetrate it, even with a metal bar. When the pump tank driver was leaving, he facetiously told Lane it would take dynamite to break it up enough to pump it. Lane thought that was a good idea. So, he visited his friend, Rick, who was managing a highway rock-clearing crew.

When Lane pulled up, Rick ambled over. “How’s my old farm buddy?” Rick asked.

“I have a slight problem that I thought you might help me with,” Lane answered.

Rick invited Lane to a small shack and offered him a chair. “What can I help you with?”

Lane explained his problem and asked Rick if he might have some dynamite he could use.

Rick laughed. “It sounds like a messy problem you have there. I’d be glad to help.” Rick then turned to an old man who was sitting in a chair at the other end of the cabin. “Hey, Frank, do you think some dynamite could break up a solid mass in a septic tank?”

“Of course it would,” Frank replied. “That and the septic tank and land around it. A person better not use a full stick for a job like that.”

“I was thinking a half stick would be good,” Rick said.

“I’d go with a quarter stick,” Frank replied.

“Nah,” Rick replied. “If you’re just going to use a quarter stick, you might as well just get yourself a bunch of firecrackers.”

Rick and Frank then argued about how much a person should use. Finally, Frank turned back to Lane. “Is it a big tank or a small one?” When Lane said it was really big, Frank gave in and agreed with his younger boss. “Well, I will say, a half stick will certainly do it. Just make sure you have all the top openings uncovered.”

Rick got Lane a half stick, and Lane asked how much he owed. “Nothing,” Rick replied. “Just tell me how she blows.”

With a few instructions, Lane was on his way. He could hardly wait to try it. When he arrived home, he used the steel bar and a pick to create a hole down into the solid mass. He then slid the dynamite down into it. Rick had rigged an extra-long fuse on it, and Lane stretched it out to where he could easily light it.

Just as he was getting it ready, his five-year-old son showed up. “What are you doing, Dad?” he asked.

“I’m rigging some dynamite to break up the stuff in the septic tank,” Lane replied. “You get back by the house and stay there.”

His son did as he was told, and Lane lit the fuse. He then hurried back with his son. They waited and waited, and nothing happened. Lane decided that the fuse must have died when it hit the stuff in the tank. He moved toward the hole, but when he got just about where he could look down, he could hear the fuse sizzling. He started backpedaling toward the house just before the explosion occurred.

The ground around him shook, and instantly, a green geyser about forty feet tall rose out of the tank. As it did, it arched toward him. Lane turned to run but was quickly engulfed in a stinky green wave. The hard material pelted him like stones. The house and yard also disappeared under the green sea.

Lane wiped his face off. The yard was several feet deep in slime, and more was pouring off the house roof and down its walls. The once-white house was now manure green. Then Lane remembered his son. He couldn’t see him and panicked. He rushed through the knee-high slop to where his son had been standing. As he came to the spot, his feet kicked into something. Lane reached down and pulled his gasping son out of the flood. Lane wiped the boy’s face off so he could breathe better.

Just then, Lane’s wife came slogging up. “What in the devil’s name just happened? And what is all of this, and why did the pipes in the basement just blow open?”

Before Lane could answer, his boy did. “Daddy just used some die-to-night to clean out the spectic tank.”

Over the next week, as Lane cleaned the house and yard, and repaired the basement pipes, his only consolation was that he saved twenty dollars not needing the pumper truck.