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A man and his wife are jolted awake by a relentless pounding at their front door…
The clock on the nightstand reads 3:00 a.m., and outside, a storm is raging.
The man groans and rubs his eyes, dragging himself out of the warm cocoon of his bed and stumbles toward the door…
As he cracks the door open, he’s greeted by an inebriated stranger, drenched from head to toe, teetering on his feet in the pouring rain.
The stranger, swaying slightly, looks up with bleary eyes and slurs, “Hey, buddy, can you give me a push?”
The man blinks in disbelief, “Not a chance,” he snaps, “It’s three o’clock in the morning!”
Without another word, he slams the door shut, muttering to himself about the audacity of some people as he trudges back to bed…
His wife, now fully awake, turns over and asks, “Who was that?”
“Just some drunk guy asking for a push,” the husband grumbles as he settles back under the covers.
“Did you help him?” she asks, her voice full of curiosity.
The man rolls his eyes, “Help him? It’s three in the morning, and it’s pouring outside! No way.”
His wife sits up, giving him a pointed look, “You’ve got a short memory, don’t you?… “
“Remember a few months ago when we broke down on that road trip, and those two guys helped us out?… “
“You didn’t seem to mind asking for help then, did you?”
The man sighs, knowing he’s been beaten by logic, “Fine, fine,” he mutters, throwing off the covers once again…
He gets dressed, grumbling under his breath, and steps out into the cold rain.
Shivering, he calls out into the darkness, “Hello? Are you still here?”
From somewhere in the gloom, the familiar slurred voice answers, “Yeah, I’m here.”
“Do you still want that push?” the man asks, squinting through the downpour.
“Yes, please,” the drunk replies eagerly.
The man walks further into the yard, the rain soaking through his clothes…
“Where are you?” he shouts, his patience wearing thin.
The drunk’s voice comes back, cheerful and oblivious, “Over here!… “
“On the swing.”
