It is 1am. In a bistro, a drunkard finally decides to go home. He leaves the counter, completely drunk, tries to take two steps and collapses miserably on the ground: Bof, hips, a little fresh air will do me good. He crawls to the exit, clings to the hood of a car, stands up and tries to take a step and collapses miserably: Bof, I, hips, will crawl to my home, it's not far. He arrives at his door and tries to return discreetly so as not to wake his wife. He clings to the handle, pulls himself up, opens the door, leans on it, tries to walk to his room, but remains silent, but after taking a step, he collapses. He crawls to the bed and falls asleep. The next day, his wife said to him on waking: You, you still spent your evening at the bistro last night.
But how do you know?
They called this morning to say that you had forgotten your wheelchair.