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Ole staggered home very late after another evening with his drinking buddy, Swen. He took off his shoes to avoid waking his wife, Lena. He tiptoed quietly 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, Ole 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 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 box and shuffled and stumbled his way to bed.

In the morning, Ole woke up with searing pain in his head and butt and Lena staring at him from across the room. She said, "You were drunk again last night, weren't you Ole?"

Ole said, "Why you say such a mean ting?"

"Well," Lena 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 downstairs mirror."