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A fellow decides to take off early from work and go drinking. He stays until
the bar closes at three in the morning, at which time he is extremely pissed.
After leaving the bar, he walks home. When he enters his house, he doesn't
want to wake his wife, so he takes off his shoes and starts tip-toeing up the
stairs. Half-way up the stairs though, he falls over backwards and lands flat
on his back. That wouldn't have been so bad, except that he had a half bottle
of scotch in his back pocket, and it broke; the broken glass carved up his ass
terribly. Yet, he was so drunk that he didn't know he was hurt. A few minutes
later, as he was undressing, he noticed blood, so he checked himself out in the
mirror, and, sure enough, his ass was cut up terribly. He then repaired the damage
as best he could under the circumstances, and went to bed. The next morning,
his head was hurting, his back 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 pissed last night. Where did you go?" "What makes
you so sure I got drunk last night, anyway?" "Well," she
replied, "my first big clue was when I got up this morning and found a bunch
of plasters stuck on the mirror." | 
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