MORNING: The grumpy man stands at his toilet. He has a headache and his vision is blurred. His penis hole is gummed up and two irregular streams miss the bowl entirely before he can cut off the flow. He knows his wife Faye will call him a slob. He will be misunderstood again. The piss on the floor is not the result of poor aim and male insolence. In a fit, he grabs a washcloth and begins to mop the floor. Behind the toilet, he finds a stump of cigar. He is not a smoker. Now he is really mad.
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