A fellow decides to take off early from work and go drinking. He stays until the bar
closes at 2 a.m., and getting extremely drunk. When he gets home he doesn't want to
wake anyone, so he takes off his shoes and starts tip-toeing up the stairs. Half-way up,
he falls over backward and lands flat on his rear end.
That wouldn't have been so bad except that he had a couple of empty pint bottles in his
back pockets, and they broke, carving up his buttocks terribly. But he was so drunk that
he didn't know he was injured. A few minutes later as he was undressing, he noticed
blood so he checked himself out in the mirror and, sure enough, his behind was cut up
something terrible. Well, he repaired the damage as best he could under the
circumstances, and he went to bed.
The next morning his head was hurting, and his rear was hurting, and he was hunkering
under the covers trying to think up some good story when his wife came into the
bedroom.
"Well, you really tied one on last night," she said. "Where'd you go?"
"I worked late," he said, "and I stopped off for a couple of beers."
"A couple of beers? That's a laugh," she replied. "You got plastered last night. Where
the heck did you go?"
"What makes you so sure I got drunk last night, anyway?" he asked.
"Well," she replied, "my first big clue was when I got up this morning and found a bunch
of band-aids stuck to the mirror."
