A fellow decides to take off early from work and go drinking. He stays until the bar closes at 2 a.m., at which time he is extremely drunk. When he enters his house, he doesn’t want to wake anyone, so he takes off his shoes and starts tiptoeing up the stairs.
Halfway up the stairs, he falls over backwards and lands flat on his rear end. That wouldn’t be so bad, except that he has a couple of empty bottles in his back pockets, and they broke so the broken glass carved up his buttocks terribly. He is so drunk that he doesn’t know he is hurt.
A few minutes later, as he is undressing, he notices blood, so he checks himself in the mirror, and sure enough, his behind is cut up something terrible. He repairs the damage as best he can under the circumstances and goes to bed.
The next morning, his head is hurting, and his rear is hurting, and he is hunkering under the covers trying to concoct some good story, when his wife comes into the bedroom.
“Well, you really tied one on last night,” she says. “Where’d you go?”
“I worked late,” he says, “and I stopped off for a couple of beers.”
“A couple of beers? That’s a laugh,” she replies. “You got plastered last night. Where the heck did you go?”
“What makes you so sure I got drunk last night, anyway?”
“Well,” she replies, “my first big clue was when I got up this morning and found a bunch of Band-Aids stuck to the mirror.”