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After drinking all evening with his friends, a man left the bar
with a couple of bottles of whiskey stuck in his back pocket to enjoy
another time.
A he staggered home, shoes in left hand to avoid waking his
wife, he tiptoed as quietly as he could toward the stairs leading
to their upstairs bedroom, but misjudged the bottom step in the darkened
entryway.
As he caught himself by grabbing the banister, his body swung around
and he landed heavily on his rump.
The whiskey bottles in each back pocket broke and made the landing
especially painful. Managing to suppress a yelp, the man sprung
up, pulled down his pants, and examined his lacerated and bleeding
cheeks in the mirror of a nearby darkened hallway, then managed to
find a large full box of Band-Aids. He proceeded to place a patch,
as best he could, on each place he saw blood.
After hiding the now empty box of Band-Aids, he managed to shuffle
and stumble his way to bed. In the morning, the man awoke with
searing pain in his head and butt and his wife staring at him from
across the room.
She said, "You were drunk again last night."
Forcing himself to ignore his agony, he looked meekly at her and
replied, "Now, honey, why would you say such a mean thing?"
"Well," she said, "it could be the open front door, it could be
the broken glass at the bottom of the stairs, it could be the drops
of blood trailing through the house, it could be your bloodshot
eyes, but mostly...
"It's all those Band-Aids stuck on the downstairs mirror!"
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