Haha! Dead giveaway that
Flynn staggered home very late after another evening with his drinking buddy, Paddy.
He took off his shoes to avoid waking his wife, Mary.
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, Flynn 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 plasters and began putting a plasters as best he could on each
place he saw blood. He then hid the now almost empty plasters box and shuffled
and stumbled his way to bed.
In the morning, Flynn woke up with searing pain in both his head and butt and Mary
staring at him from across the room.
She said, 'You were drunk again last night weren't you?'
Flynn said, 'Why you say such a mean thing?'
'Well,' Mary 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 plasters stuck on the hall mirror!
Why be a hard rock when you really are a gem!
Haha! Dead giveaway that
*->Stress - This is the confusion created when the mind overides the body's desire to strangle some JERK who desperately needs it<-*
Nobody is Pefect. I am Nobody, therefore I am Perfect
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