Bill had been sitting at his local pub all evening, putting away beers like there was no tomorrow. All too soon for Bill, the last round was called. And eventually, as he is making no sudden moves to leave, the barman looks at him and says:“Bill, my bru, we’re closing. You’d better get yourself home.”
Bill slowly gets off his chair. Before he can take a step…
WHAM!
Flat on his face. “Ag, man,” he mutters. “I’m a lot more drunkera than I thought.” So Bill decides the best thing to do is crawl outside, get some fresh air and sober up a bit, and then he will be fine.
He crawls out the door and makes his way along the pavement. After a while, he reaches a lamp pole. He grabs hold of it, hauls himself slightly upright and thinks: “Right. I’m almost perfectly sober.”
He tries one step…
WHAM!
Flat on his face again. “Jislaaik,” Bill says. “Liefie is going to kill me if she knows I’ve been drinking all night.” He looks up at the house, which is only a block away. “Okay, Bill. Don’t panic. Just crawl home. By the time you get there, you’ll be sober.”
So he crawls the whole way home. He gets to the front door, carefully pulls himself up to unlock the door and crawls inside. He takes one step…
WHAM!
Straight onto the floor. “Ag, Bill… you’re really pissed!”
He decides there’s only one thing left to do. “I’ll crawl quietly to the bedroom, get into bed, and she’ll never know I’ve been out drinking.” So he crawls down the passage, climbs into bed, pulls the blankets over himself and lies perfectly still.
He smiles. “Got away with it.”
A few seconds later, Liefie rolls over.
“Bill?”
“Yes, darling?”
“You’ve been drinking at the pub all night again, haven’t you?”
Bill freezes.
“How on earth did you guess that?”
She sighs.
“Because, Bill…”
“…you left your wheelchair at the pub again.”
