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."
