We lived in a victorian house in B'ham back in the late '70's. One night about 2:30 am, a guy I'd worked with was knocking on our door. It was raining sideways, he was drunk and his ride had left him in town and he had no way to get home to Deming. So I let him crash on the couch.
We had the typical high ceilings and we had two big speakers on top of some milk cartons on each side of the stereo.
Abnout 4:00 am, I woke up when I heard him crashing around. I went out to the living room and he was pissing on my speakers. He lived in the woods and would go out to piss on his trees. He thought he was in his own front yard. I threw him back out in the rain. Never saw him again.