The farmer’s boy came whistling over the fields. He was carrying a haystack. He was a strong lad. Then he saw GAIL JOHNSON, an absolutely ravishing, blue-eyed blonde.
Gail thought she was all alone. She did wonder why a distant haystack looked as if it was moving about, but not being an agriculturalist she put it out of her mind.
It was a hot day and just right for gambolling about in undies. Then the haystack stopped moving and a face came out from under it. The face of the farmer’s boy. Gail gave him one warning.
“Don’t you dare look or I’ll fire six rounds into you.”
The farmer’s boy couldn’t help looking. Corks, what a peach, he thought. So, Gail fired six rounds. They thudded into the haystack. The farmer’s boy was ever so relieved, any one of those rounds might have injured his appetite and he was looking forward to pork pie for supper.
“Missed me,” he said.
The farmer’s boy knew when he was well off. He picked up the haystack and ran. He tripped over a furrow and the haystack fell on him.
“Serve him right,” said Gail, “shouldn’t have such goggle eyes.”