Paddy comes home from the pub
Posted: Jan 27th, '16, 18:58
Paddy had been drinking at his local pub all day and most of the night, celebrating St Patrick's Day.
Mick, the bartender says, 'You'll not be drinking anymore tonight, Paddy.. you have had enough'.
Paddy replies, 'OK Mick, I'll be on my way then'. Paddy spins around on his stool and steps off. He falls flat on his face.
'Damn' he says and pulls himself up by the stool and dusts himself off. He takes a step towards the door and falls flat on his face, 'oh bloody damn!'
He looks to the doorway and thinks to himself that if he can just get to the door and some fresh air he'll be fine.
He belly crawls to the door and shimmies up to the door frame. He sticks his head outside and takes a deep breath of fresh air, feels much better and takes a step out onto the sidewalk and falls flat on his face again.
‘Damn… I'm in bloody trouble,' he says.
He can see his house just a few doors away, and crawls down the sidewalk to his front door, hauls himself up the door frame, opens the door, falls flat on his face again and very unsteadly he crawls inside.
He crawls up the stairs to his bedroom door and says 'I can make it to the bed'. He takes a step into the room and once more falls flat on his face. He says 'damn it' and crawls to the bed and falls into it next to his wife.
The next morning, his wife, Mary, comes into the room carrying a cup of coffee and says, 'Get up Paddy. Did you have a bit to drink last night?' Paddy says, 'I did, Mary. I was bloody drunk. But how did you know?'
'Mick phoned a little while ago .. . . You left your wheelchair at the pub.'
Mick, the bartender says, 'You'll not be drinking anymore tonight, Paddy.. you have had enough'.
Paddy replies, 'OK Mick, I'll be on my way then'. Paddy spins around on his stool and steps off. He falls flat on his face.
'Damn' he says and pulls himself up by the stool and dusts himself off. He takes a step towards the door and falls flat on his face, 'oh bloody damn!'
He looks to the doorway and thinks to himself that if he can just get to the door and some fresh air he'll be fine.
He belly crawls to the door and shimmies up to the door frame. He sticks his head outside and takes a deep breath of fresh air, feels much better and takes a step out onto the sidewalk and falls flat on his face again.
‘Damn… I'm in bloody trouble,' he says.
He can see his house just a few doors away, and crawls down the sidewalk to his front door, hauls himself up the door frame, opens the door, falls flat on his face again and very unsteadly he crawls inside.
He crawls up the stairs to his bedroom door and says 'I can make it to the bed'. He takes a step into the room and once more falls flat on his face. He says 'damn it' and crawls to the bed and falls into it next to his wife.
The next morning, his wife, Mary, comes into the room carrying a cup of coffee and says, 'Get up Paddy. Did you have a bit to drink last night?' Paddy says, 'I did, Mary. I was bloody drunk. But how did you know?'
'Mick phoned a little while ago .. . . You left your wheelchair at the pub.'