An Irishman named Murphy went to his doctor
after a long illness. The doctor, after a lengthy examination, sighed and
looked Murphy in the eye and said, "I've some bad new for you ... you have the
cancer and it can't be cured. I'd give you two weeks to a
month."
Murphy, shocked and saddened by the news, but of
solid character, managed to compose himself and walk from the doctor's office
into the waiting room. There he saw his son who had been waiting. Murphy said,
"Son, we Irish celebrate when things are good and celebrate when things don't
go so well. In this case, things aren't so well. I have cancer and I've been
given a short time to live. Let's head for the pub and have a few pints.
After three or four pints the two were feeling a
little less somber. There were some laughs and more beers. They were
eventually approached by some of Murphy's old friends who asked what the two
were celebrating. Murphy told them that the Irish celebrate the good and the
bad... He went on to tell them that they were drinking to his impending end.
He told his friends "I've only got a few weeks to live as I have been
diagnosed with AIDS."
The friends gave Murphy their condolences and
they had a couple more beers.
After his friends left, Murphy's son leaned over
and whispered his confusion...
"Dad I thought you said that you were dying
from cancer...? You just told your friends that you were dying from AIDS'?"
Murphy said, " I am dying from cancer son, I just don't want any of them
sleeping with your mother after I'm gone."
