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 with 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…
