Ole staggered home very late after another evening with his drinking buddy,
Sven. He took off his shoes to avoid waking his wife, Lena. He tiptoed
quietly 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, Ole 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 co uld on each place he saw blood. He then hid the now
almost empty box and shuffled and stumbled his way to bed. In the morning,
Ole woke up with searing pain in his head and butt and Lena staring at him
from across the room.
She said, "You were drunk again last night weren't you Ole?"
Ole said, "Why you say such a mean ting?"
"Well," Lena said, "it could be da open front door, it could be da broken
glass at da bottom of da stairs, it could be da drops of blood trailing
through da house, it could be your bloodshot eyes, but mostly .... it's
all dose Band-Aids stuck on da downstairs mirror.
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