Luck of the Irish

It was dark that St. Patrick’s Day eve. Sean the Irishman and English Jeremy were motorcycling

in opposite directions on a twisty mountain road. Both men were going too fast, and the inevitable happened.

They collided.

Luckily, both men had helmets and good leathers and were not seriously injured. This seemed so miraculous

that both men had to laugh out loud. Jeremy said, “We are two lucky men, that’s for sure.” “Aye, the good

St. Patrick and Himself were looking after us.” “We should have a drink to celebrate, but I’m afraid

my bottles of ale are broken.” Sean carefully removed a swaddled bottle of twelve-year-old Jameson’s

Irish whiskey from his luggage. “Here you go,” he said to Jeremy. Jeremy grabbed the bottle and swigged and swigged

and swallowed until half the bottle was gone. Finally, he turned to Sean. “Your turn.” “No,” said Sean. “I’ll wait until

the highway patrol has come and gone, thank you.”

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