Everything is clear, like my conscience

What did I do last night after I got home from the bars? Did I kill someone?

Maybe it was one of my knife-wielding roommates. Maybe it was the possum that got in my way last night that I might have kicked on my drunken walk home because I thought it was a football and I was going for the extra point.

All I know is I stumbled into my room and fell asleep in the clothes I went out in and when I woke up this morning I saw blood all over the bottom of my pants. BLOOD! Not ketchup stains, because I spill ketchup on myself all the time and that is definitely not ketchup on my pants. Not period stains, because I'm not a woman and am incapable of menstruating. So what the heck did I do last night? If I murdered anyone, please let me know.

And these were my good pants, too. But as Jerry Seinfeld once said, "TV ads always show detergents getting out blood stains. I say if you have a T-shirt full of blood stains, maybe laundry isn't your biggest problem."