(A classic thefez link in the chatterbox, fez Surfing at its finest. I don't usually do this, but the story just sort of congealed in my head, so here it is.)

dem bones was in serious peril of losing a half gallon of digested beer into his shoe. He had been at the American Legion barn dance for 5 hours straight, tossing back Budweiser's at an alarming rate while chatting it up with the nice girls.
The apple pie girls.
The better than all American girl-next-door girls.
What they failed to tell Private First Class "boner" dem bones Johnson at the pre dance orientation, was that the nearest outhouse was a half mile away through a strange field and a lot of brush and that it would be dark and that drinking a lot of Budweiser had a way of making your left leg feel heavier than your right leg.

And so here he was, stumbling blindly through the night. And keep in mind, oh fine reader, that this was a gentler time. This was a time when, peeing anywhere but in a designated place for urination -- even if you were all alone and you felt as if everything from your kneecaps to your nipples was on fire and even if it was pitch black and you were in a dark field in the middle of a war in the middle of no where -- conjured up images of Mom scolding you and deep seeded sexually repressed shame.

And so on he marched, one hand swaying frantically in front of him; as if he were a blind man in New York traffic and the other gripping his crotch desperately. Just when all hope of returning without a soiled uniform was lost and as he was conjuring up images of mess hall duty for all eternity; his hand smacked painfully into something big and wooden. He cursed under his breath and then took a moment to feel ashamed at himself for cursing out loud. Thankfully, need took the reigns away from the Catholic guilt of his upbringing and he began to fondle the wooden surface, frantically looking for a latch or a knob or anything that would gain him admittance. After what seemed an eternity of drunkenly groping the door his fingers closed around the latch and he lifted it quickly.

Yanking the door open with that rush of super human strength that only occurs when your children are trapped under a burning wreck or when you have to pee so badly that you begin to relive past lives, bones stepped in, turned to the left and thrust his hand forward hitting pay dirt right off the bat. He lifted the heavy and apparently old fashion toilet lid, dropped his army issue trousers and let loose in a general approximation of the direction of the bowl.

Half way to Zion, bones heard something stirring at the door behind him and saw a faint glow of lantern light. He turned his head while keeping his apparatus pointed in the general direction of the drop target (not an easy task while floating on a cushion of 8 or 9 Budweiser's) just in time to see his pal, "thefez" Jimmy Fezinski, stumble through the doorway and latch onto the doorframe as if he was throwing his own private earthquake and no one else was invited.
      "fezzy?", bones asked in disbelief.
      "Fer crissakes bones it's darker'n Captain knifegirl's heart ou'ther. I broughtaaaa... thing...uhh lanterm-lantern. heh heh".
fez smelled like someone had lit an entire pack of cigarettes and stuffed them down his shorts along with a keg of beer -- minus the keg. He didn't look much better.
      "Gee wiz fezzy, I'm takin' a leak here, can you wait a sec?" bones asked urgently, slightly embarrassed that his friend should just bust in while he was draining the lizard.
      "suresuresure..." thefez said nonchalantly. He grinned, got his balance, looked up slowly as if he were groping for focus. And then, suddenly, something resembling coherence graced his eyes and his face went completely slack while his eyes began to bulge in a way frighteningly reminiscent of their old drill sergeant.
      "What?" demanded bones self-consciously (and still a little vexed that fez had ruined a perfectly good out-of-body experience), "Just go, I'm kinna busy here!"
thefez tried to mumble something as the look of horror seemed to harden on his face like some sort of pre death rigor mortis . Instead of fighting with his numb and apparently uncooperative lips the fez raised a shaky hand and pointed at bones.
Rather than ask his apparently incoherent friend what the hell he was doing, bones decded to just try to ignore him and instead took a look around the outhouse for the first time now that he had some light. It was pretty damn big for an outhouse. In fact -- it was pretty damn big for an airplane hanger. In fact, now that he was really thinking about it, he would have sworn that it wasn't an outhouse at all; it looked a whole lot like a barn. Hearing thefez blubbering frantically at him and realizing, albeit slowly, that he was pissing in someone's barn his head snapped around and he looked down almost involuntarily.

As the last drops of urine escaped his body, bones realized, through his drunken haze, that what he was pissing in was not in fact a toilet at all but rather someone's personal steamer trunk. The contents of which were not what one would normally find in the toilet, namely a neatly folded American flag.

Bones reflexively jerked back, slammed the lid shut and nearly fell over grabbing for his trousers.
      "buhh...buuh" thefez mumbled, eyes wide and face pale.
      "Shut up fezzy!", bones whined, his face also slowly draining of all color. "Let's get out of here before they miss us".
      "Oh boner, you didn't whiz on Old Glory, did you?" thefez asked, eyes misting over as if he was personally reliving Casablanca.
      "No! I mean, no -- you're just drunk fezzy"
      "Oh", thefez breathed deeply, smiled a toothy smile and then pulled himself upright, "thas whataye thought".
      dem bones, still white said, "c'mon fezzy, doubltime".
thefez nodded, laughed and then tripped rather unceremoniously as he hurled his body awkwardly out into the darkness.

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