Misjudging the bottom step, he caught himself by grabbing the banister, but swung around and landed heavily on his backside. Empty whiskey bottles he'd had in each back pocket broke. Stifling a yell, Flynn sprang up, lowered his britches, looked in the hall mirror to see his buttocks cut and bleeding. He quietly found a full box of Band-Aids, returned to the mirror, and, as best he could, put one on each injury before hiding the box and stumbling to bed.

He awoke with searing pain in both head and rear to see Mary staring accusingly.

"You were drunk again last night!"

Flynn gulped. "Why would you say such a thing?"