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For the third time in a week, Andrew staggered home very late after an evening at the pub with his drinking buddy, Paddy.

He took off his shoes to avoid waking his wife, Kathleen. 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 broken and made the landing especially painful.

Managing not to yell, Andrew sprung up, pulled down his pants, and looked in the hall mirror to see that his bum was 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, Andrew woke up with searing pain in both his head and rear-end to see Kathleen glaring at him from across the room.

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

Andrew said, "And why you say such a mean thing?"

"Well," Kathleen 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 and it could be your bloodshot eyes, but mostly... 'tis all those Band-Aids stuck on the hallway mirror."
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