Little Billy Breidenstein
My favorite campfire tale was always told by my uncle when we would camp at the lake. I’m pretty sure my dad was in on it, because my uncle would start it out by saying something like, “I don’t think we should tell that one around the kids!” and my dad would say, “Maybe you are right, maybe that one is too scary!” Then of course all of my cousins and I would beg for him to tell it.
The story started off by my Uncle telling us about Little Billy Breidenstein, a little boy who would never listen to his parents. He would never clean up his room, take out the trash, and most of all, he hated to do the dishes.
Sometimes, the dishes would pile up so high that they would block out the light of the kitchen window, just because Billy would never do them. Billy’s mom would beg him to do them, but he never listened.
All the older kids would get skeptical about the story at this point, and would roll their eyes or groan. My uncle would keep going though, and tell about how one night, a terrible noise started in Billy’s kitchen.
He would tell about how little Billy got up from his bed, and started toward the kitchen where a terrifying moan was coming from. He would talk about how Billy crept to the dishwasher, shaking in fear, and how he slowly opened up the dishwasher----and BOOM! He would throw a mixture of sugar and other slightly flammable materials into the fire, and it would flame up, scaring the pants off of the littler kids.
The story ended with a monster growing inside the dishwasher, from all of the food and grime that was left when Billy wouldn’t do the dishes.
The stuff my uncle would throw into the fire really sealed the deal. Everybody knew the story was made up purely to chide everybody into doing their chores, but the unexpected burst of flame and the drama and excitement it made, I guess that’s what kept it on everybody’s mind.