A new Irish pub opens in downtown New York. On the first day, an Irishman walks in and orders three pints of Guinness.
He takes a sip from the first one, then a sip from the second and finally a sip from the third. He does this in turn until all pints are empty. This goes on every day for a few weeks, and since the barkeeper has never seen anything like this, he asks about this peculiar drinking habit one day:
“See”, the Irishman says, “I used to go for a pint together with my two brothers. But Paddy, my older brother, moved back home to Kerry and my younger brother, Sean, moved to Boston. So, now that it’s just me, I order a pint for each of them as well. We agreed as long we’re all still drawing breath, we’ll raise a glass together, just like we used to. Sláinte!”
Thinking this is a lovely tradition, the barman continues to serve his patron three pints and watches him drink them sip by sip every evening for the next few months. One day, however, the man comes in and orders just two pints. He takes turns drinking them as usual and goes home. This goes on for a few days, before the barkeeper works up the courage to talk to him:
“You told me about your tradition, that as long as the three of you were still alive, you’d continue drinking together. I am so sorry to hear about your brother passing. Drinks are on the house today.”
To which the Irishman responds.
“Cheers, but both my brothers are doing fine. It’s just my doctor has prescribed me a new type of medicine and told me that I need to stop drinking.”
