Ya gotta love the Irish...
> Patton staggered home very late after another
> evening 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 broke
> and made the landing especially painful.
>
> Managing not to yell, Patton sprung up, pulled down
> his pants, and looked in the hall mirror to see that his butt cheeks were
> 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, Patton woke up with searing pain in
> both his head and butt and Kathleen staring at him from across the room.
>
> She said, 'You were drunk again last night weren't you?'
>
> Patton said, '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, it could be your
> bloodshot eyes, but mostly ...... it's all those Band-Aids stuck on the
> hall mirror.
Charles