My Buddy Jake

Jake staggered home very late after another evening with 

his drinking buddy, TD. 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 butt. A whiskey bottle in each back pocket 

broke and made the landing especially painful.

Managing not to yell, Jake sprang 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, Jake 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?"

Jake said, "Why would 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 Band-Aids stuck 

on the hall mirror."