An Irishman walks into a bar in Dublin, orders three pints of Guinness and
sits in the back of the room, drinking a sip out of each one in turn. When he
finishes them, he comes back to the bar and orders three more.
The
bartender asks him, "You know, a pint goes flat after I draw it; it
would taste better if you bought one at a time."
The Irishman
replies, "Well, you see, I have two brothers. One is in America, the other
in Australia, and I'm here in Dublin. When we all left home, we promised
that we'd drink this way to remember the days when we drank
together."
The bartender admits that this is a nice custom, and
leaves it there. The Irishman becomes a regular in the bar, and always drinks
the same way: He orders three pints and drinks them in turn.
One day, he
comes in and orders two pints. All the other regulars notice and fall
silent.
When he comes back to the bar for the second round, the bartender
says, "I don't want to intrude on your grief, but I wanted to offer my
condolences on your great loss."
The Irishman looks confused for a
moment, then a light dawns in his eye and he laughs. "Oh, no," he,
says, "everyone's fine. I've just quit
drinking."
