At exactly 3:00 AM, a violent pounding on the front door shattered the silence of a pitch-black, torrential rainstorm.
The husband stumbled out of bed, peeked through the window, and spotted a heavily intoxicated stranger shivering on his porch. When the husband opened the door, the drenched man slurred, “Hey pal… can you give me a push?”
“Not a chance,” the husband snapped. “It’s three in the morning!” He slammed the door shut and crawled back into the warm blankets.
“Who was that?” his wife mumbled, groggy.
“Just some drunk guy asking for a push. I told him to get lost.”
His wife immediately sat up, glaring at him in the dark. “Are you serious? Don’t you remember three months ago when our car broke down in the middle of nowhere, and those two absolute angels stopped to help us? Karma is watching. You go back out there right now and help that poor man!”
Guilt-tripped into submission, the husband groaned, dragged himself out of bed, and put on his raincoat. He stepped out into the freezing, driving rain, blinking against the darkness of the front yard.
“Hello?” he yelled into the storm. “Are you still out here?”
“Yeah!” a voice shouted back through the wind.
“Do you still need that push?” the husband called out, bracing himself to muscle a heavy car out of a ditch.
“Yes, please!” the drunk yelled back.
“Where the hell are you?!” the husband shouted, looking at the empty driveway.
The voice replied cheerfully from the darkness of the backyard:
“Over here on the swing set!”
