A fellow hoists three brews every Friday at the same bar. Without
fail, every Friday he buys three brews and thoughtfully drinks them
down and then goes home. After months and months of this "pilgrimage"
the bar tender is curious and says to the man: As certain as a
sunrise, you come in here and drink three brews and then go home,
there must be a story to this. The man replies: There certainly is a
story behind this. I was in the worst of the VietNam War. Three of us
became unseparatable buddies. We all vowed that if we ever got out
alive, we'd all meet on a Friday evening and drink to our
deliverance, and if one of us was missing the other two would drink
the missing man's drink, and likewise if only one of us survived that
man would drink for the missing two.
The following week the fellow orders two brews, and consistently
drinks two brews every Friday evening. After months of this, the
bartender says to the man: You used to buy three brews every Friday
after work, but now you drink only two. There must be a story to
The man replies:
I joined the Mormon Church, and I'm not allowed to drink.
(smile) some things answer to a higher order.
Aye, some things do. Used to be we told these stories about the WWII vets....now it's about the old Nam vets....((sigh)) think I'll toddle on down to the old folks home and check myself in now.......:bawling:
Originally Posted by sjohnson
nobody likes the mormons.... pick on them
Every night, a man walks into a bar. He orders three Guinness drafts and slugs them down... After a few months of this, the barman asks, "what's up with your drinking three beers right away, and then going home?"
The man replies, "I have two brothers in Ireland. When we were growing up, we all vowed to drink together no matter what... If one of us was not present, the others would drink his beer. Since I live here and my brothers still live in Ireland, I have to drink three beers every night..."
A few months later, the man comes in and orders two Guinness drafts and slugs them down... The barman, knowing this tradition, approaches the man and says "I'm sorry for your loss..."
The man replies, "What do you mean?"
"Well," says the barman, "You only ordered two drinks, this must mean that one of your brothers died..."
"Oh no, no, no! My brothers are fine... It's just that I quit drinking..."