Shayne had been drinking at his local pub all day and
most of the night. Mick the bartender says, "You'll
not be drinking anymore tonight, Shayne."
Shayne replies, "OK, Mick, I'll be on my way then."
Shayne gets up from his chair and steps forward. He
falls flat on his face. He curses, pulls himself up
by a stool and dusts himself off. He takes a step
towards the door and falls flat on his face.
He looks to the doorway and thinks to himself that if
he can just get to the door and get some fresh air,
he'll be fine. Shayne belly-crawls to the door and
shimmies up the doorframe. He sticks his head outside
and takes a deep breath of fresh air, feels much
better and takes a step out onto the sidewalk. He
falls flat on his face.
He curses again. He can see his house just a few doors
down. He crawls to the door and shimmies up the
doorframe, opens the door and shimmies inside. He
takes a look up the stairs and says, "No bloody way."
But he crawls up the stairs to his bedroom door. He
says, "I can make it to the bed." He takes a step into
the room and falls flat on his face. Shayne crawls
forward, drags himself up by the sheets, and finally
falls into bed.
The next morning, his wife, Mary, comes into the room
carrying a cup of coffee and says, "Get up Shayne. Did
you have a bit too much to drink last night?"
Shayne says, "I did Mary. But how'd you know?"
"Mick called You left your wheelchair at the pub."