A Man Goes Out For A Few Beers

My Uncle told me this joke years ago while we were camping. It's way better in person, but gives me a little chuckle every time :)

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A man goes out for a few beers after a long day at work. He sits at the bar alone for some time before making idle conversation with the new barkeep who'd just begun a shift. They exchange stories, as the man himself once tended bar in his younger days, and he continues to drink. 3AM rolls around before he knows it and his new friend The Bartender tells him it's time to pack it in.

"Alright Buddy, it's been fun, but I gotta close up."

The man smiles, clumsily grabs his wallet from his back pocket and throws a twenty down on the table. He thanks The Bartender for the good conversation and swings around on the stool before falling flat on his face. He looks to the door and thinks to himself that if he can just get outside and get some fresh air, he'll be alright. So he crawls across the room, unnoticed by The Bartender as he counts out his till, and shimmies up the doorway. With a quick turn of the knob, the door lurches forward and the man finds himself making quick friends with the sidewalk.

"Fuck!" He shouts as he lifts himself by his elbows. It's quite dark out and the only real good source of light is coming from a streetlight across and down the road a ways. He begins his exciting crawl. Once he reaches the streetlight he pulls himself up again, readying himself for the walk home, before falling forward once more.

"That's it!" He figures he's had far too many drinks this evening, and makes the genius decision to crawl home.

Luckily the man doesn't live too far away and it's not long before he sees his house just down the street. He continues his crawl, up the street, past the ratty shack his neighbours call home, and across his lawn. He pulls himself up the stairs to his front porch, grabs the doorknob and pulls himself upright, pushing the door forward and, again, falling flat on his face.

The man figures he's had just about enough of this tonight, nudges the door shut behind him, and lets his head rest on one of his slippers in the entrance way before slipping off into dreamland.

The smell of fresh coffee and the sound of birds chirping and dishes clanging seem to wake the man up all at once. He aches all over and can't quite recall why he's slept on the floor in the entranceway of his house. His wife rounds the corner from the kitchen with a mug of steaming hot coffee in her hands.

"Good Morning," she begins, with a crooked smile on her face. "A nice man named Frank called, he works at the bar you were at last night."

Silence. The man readies himself for a good, stern talking to.

She places the coffee down beside her husband and gives him a gentle pat on the back. "You forgot your wheelchair there last night."