A local chap decided to build a house not too far from here. Being of a hard working, but not brilliant persuasion he thought he knew how it was done. You rented forms, put them up in the right shape and then ordered transit mix concrete to pour between them, and the job was done. Good theory. Everything went well and he even saved some time on the job by not bothering to stick all those flat pieces of metal through both forms and lining them all up with the rods through the holes. Phone call to the transit mix man and he was on his way.

When the concrete arrived on the site the driver took one look, noticed the missing snap ties and refused to unload, knowing that the weight of the concrete hitting the forms would immediately collapse them in a heap in the basement. He told Jimmy this and was requested to wait until the ties could be installed in all the walls and then he could proceed. Knowing this was an all day job he refused. Jimmy insisted then that the mix be put in the forms and they went back and forth on that for awhile 'til the driver said "Well, you ordered it, so here it is." and proceeded to dump the whole load in the middle of the lawn. Jimmy worked for a while carrying wheelbarrows full of congealing mud, but it's tough to make a dent in ten yards of concrete on your own. So the pile stayed there, hardening and turning grey and becoming known as "Jimmy's Mountain".

Jimmy kind of gave up on the idea of building his own house and moved along to other accomodation. And the "Mountain", well, somebody got at it with a jackhammer and one day it was gone.

A variation on the theme of "I'll hold it, and when I nod my head you give it a whack."
Two fellows were building a fence using the old method of post maul and elbow grease. To keep the fence line straight they lined up each post as it was driven by sighting along the last two. One fellow, perhaps being a shade too accurate, laid his thumb along the top of the post, and nodded OK. Post maul met fence post by way of thumb and the race was on. The thumbless one had an axe, but the mauler had fear on his side. They went around the field a couple of times until exhaustion and pain got the best of them and they decided to seek medical help. Mr. Nine-fingers later opened a hotel and the other fellow left the country, don't think there was any connection.

My cousin and his pal were fooling around on the school bus one afternoon and the bus driver informed them that the next day they would be let off at the mine corner and could walk home. This was a tramp of about one and one-half miles, not a truly condign punishment but common enough. They railed at the injustice, (to themselves) and decided honour could be restored only if they could beat the bus home, thereby teaching the driver a lesson. To this end they rode their bikes up to the mine corner and hid them in the ditch. The plan was to be booted off the bus, jump on the bikes and, since it was all downhill from there and the bus had to make some stops, cock a snoot at the driver by being at the bus stop to greet him when he arrived.

The one minor flaw in the ingenious plan was that the next day the driver forgot his threat and drove merrily past the mine corner without stopping and delivered them safe and sound to the usual stop. So they had to walk all the way up the hill to recover the bikes and ride them home. I'm sure all kinds of valuable moral lessons were learned, but they may have got lost in the laughter.