At home, the pain hits. He looks in a mirror after undressing and sees the blood and the cuts on his butt. Trying to focus on the mirror, he repairs the damage as best he can, then crashes in bed.
The next morning, he wakes up with a hangover from hell, feeling like he'd been chewed up by a coyote and shit off a cliff. He looks up through the pain and fog, and sees his wife standing beside the bed. "Well, you really tied one on last night," she said, "Where'd you go?"
"I worked late and I stopped off at the Lonesome Dove for a couple of beers."
"A couple of beers, hell!" she snorted. "You got so plastered last night you couldn't see straight!"
"What makes you think that?"
"My first big clue was when I got up this morning and found a bunch of Band-Aids stuck to the bathroom mirror."
And the Webite That Started It All
