Friday, October 20, 2006
Band-Aids
A man staggered home late after another evening with his drinking
buddies. 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. A whiskey bottle 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
and proceeded to place a patch as best he could on each place he saw
blood. After hiding the now almost empty box, he managed to shuffle
and stumble his way to bed.
In the morning, the man awoke with searing pain in 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, hon, why would you say such a mean thing?"
"Well," she said, "it could be the open front door. It could be the
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!"
buddies. 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. A whiskey bottle 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
and proceeded to place a patch as best he could on each place he saw
blood. After hiding the now almost empty box, he managed to shuffle
and stumble his way to bed.
In the morning, the man awoke with searing pain in 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, hon, why would you say such a mean thing?"
"Well," she said, "it could be the open front door. It could be the
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!"
