Driving two couples back to the farm after an evening of culture, one gentleman expressed his need for a rest room. I could not think of anything available as we drove through the countryside. I suggested to go behind an old farmhouse by the side of the road, which he agreed to do. Shortly afterwards, what sounded like a woman’s scream came from the direction of the abandoned building. Out of the darkness of the night came our friend, zipping up his fly as he approached the car.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Those damn Italians make love anywhere!” he exclaimed.
Apparently as he tried to relieve himself, he had disturbed a moment of ecstasy that a young couple was enjoying, under the moonlight, behind the abandoned farmhouse.
“Better the couple then a hungry wild boar that could have eliminated a private body part,” said his wife drily.
