LA_MERC_Drifter
June 29th, 2005, 10:46 PM
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 before proceeding 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 before proceeding 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!"