When I walked into the bathroom, yesterday, I saw a box of band aids open, and almost every band aid had been opened and tossed on the counter. There had to be at least fifty band aids and wrappers lying there. I knew who the culprit was. "Bubba," I called. "Come here!"
He came, and I pointed at the mess. "What's this?" I asked.
"I needed a band aid," he said.
"A band aid? It looks like you needed about a hundred of them. Why did you open every single band aid that was in the box?"
He showed me his finger which had three band aids on it. "I got a really bad paper cut, and none of those other band aids worked."