This story isn't mine, thank goodness, although I was indirectly responsible.
In 1996, DH and I married and my parents graciously hosted our reception at their "river house." DH and I leave on our honeymoon, and Mom and Dad do the last of the cleanup. The river house does not have trash service, but Dac has never really minded, he seems to get some sort of weird pleasure out of "doing the dump run". He usually loaded up the bags into his convertible '66 Mustang, because it wouldn't be so stinky. He loves that car, so do we, we used it as our "getaway car" after our ceremony.
After the wedding, dad loaded the bags into the car, but wasn't able to make the run that day, or the next for some reason. I think they were still hanging out with family and friends.
The third day, dad goes to the dump, goes to pull out the first bag, and it explodes all over, spraying food juice and maggots, hundreds of maggots all over the newly detailed interior.
Mom made Dad get the car professionally cleaned. She said they were still finding maggots months pater that must have crawled into nooks and crannies. We still ride in the car, it's still awesome!
Edited b/c I hit post too soon.
