Flynn
staggered home very late after another evening with his
drinking buddy, Paddy. He took off his shoes to
avoid waking his wife, Mary.

He tiptoed as
quietly as he could toward the stairs leading to their
upstairs bedroom, but misjudged the bottom step.
As he caught himself by grabbing the banister, his body
swung around and he landed heavily on his rump. A
whiskey bottle in each back pocket broke and made the
landing especially painful.

Managing not to
yell, Flynn sprung up, pulled down his pants, and looked
in the hall mirror to see that his butt cheeks were cut
and bleeding. He managed to quietly find a full
box of Band-Aids and began putting a Band-Aid as best he
could on each place he saw blood.

He then hid the
now almost empty Band-Aid box and shuffled and stumbled
his way to bed.

In the morning, Flynn woke
up with searing pain in both his head and butt and Mary
staring at him from across the room.

She
said, 'You were drunk again last night weren't
you?'

Flynn said, 'Why you say such a mean
thing?'

'Well,' Mary 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 hall
mirror.

lets have it then