Ole staggered home very late one night with his drinking buddy, Sven. He took his shoes off to avoid waking his wife, Lena and tiptoed quietly toward the stairs leading to their bedroom, but misjudged the bottom step and grabbed onto the banister, twisting his body around and landing on his butt with a whiskey bottle in each of his back pockets. He looked in the hall mirror to see that his rump was cut and bleeding. He quietly found a box of bandaids and began applying them as best he could on each place he saw blood and then stumbled his way to bed. In the morning he woke to Lena's ire. "You vere drunk again last night vern't you, Ole". Lena accused. "Of Dah," said Ole, "Vy yu say such a mean ting to me'? "Vell", said Lena,"it could be the open front door, it could be da broken glass at da bottom of the steps, it could be drops of blood trailing all over, it could be yur bloodshot eyes, but mostly, it's da bandaids stuck on the downstairs mirror."