A wife was with her lover when she suddenly heard her husband’s key turning in the front door. The lover froze in panic, his face going pale as footsteps stumbled down the hallway. “Stay where you are,” she whispered urgently. “He’s so drunk he won’t even notice you’re with me.”
Sure enough, the husband lurched into the bedroom, barely able to keep his eyes open. He collapsed onto the bed, mumbled something incoherent, and seemed completely unaware of anything unusual. The wife breathed a quiet sigh of relief. But a few minutes later, through the thick drunken haze, the husband slowly opened his eyes and stared toward the end of the bed. His expression suddenly changed.
He turned to his wife and said, “Hey, there are six feet sticking out at the end of this bed. There should only be four. What’s going on?!?”
“Nonsense,” said the wife, trying desperately to sound calm. “You’re so drunk you miscounted. Get out of bed and try again. You can see better from over there.”
The husband groaned, rolled out of bed, and stumbled toward the foot of it. He squinted at the legs sticking out and began counting carefully.
“One, two, three, four. Oh, okay. You were right.”
The wife smiled with relief, certain the danger had passed. The lover, meanwhile, remained perfectly still, silently thanking every bit of luck he had left. Neither of them realized that the husband’s drunkenness had just saved them from an awkward explanation—and possibly something much worse.
A drunk ice fisherman drills a hole in the ice and peers into it, hoping to spot some fish below. As he does so, a loud voice suddenly echoes from above, startling him. “There are no fish down there.”
The fisherman looks around, confused, but assumes someone must be playing a joke on him. So he walks several yards away, stomps his feet to warm them, and drills another hole.
As he peers into it, he again hears the same voice say, “There’s no fish down there.”
Now the fisherman is getting suspicious. He looks around at the empty frozen rink, scratches his head, and decides perhaps he simply chose the wrong spot. So he walks about 20 yards away and drills another hole. Once again, before he can even finish looking into the water, the voice booms out, “There’s no fish down there.”
The fisherman looks up toward the sky and asks nervously, “God, is that you?”
“No, you idiot,” says the voice. “It’s the rink manager. You’re drilling holes in the hockey rink!”
A police officer pulls over a guy who had been weaving in and out of the lanes. The officer approaches the driver’s window, already suspicious, and notices that the man is struggling to sit up straight.
He goes up to the guy’s window and says, “Sir, I need you to blow into this breathalyzer tube.”
The man looks nervous and says, “Sorry, officer, I can’t do that. I am an asthmatic. If I do that, I’ll have a really bad asthma attack.”
“Okay, fine,” sighs the officer, beginning to lose patience. “I need you to come down to the station to give a blood sample.”
“I can’t do that either. I am a hemophiliac,” says the man solemnly. “If I do that, I’ll bleed to death.”
The officer stares at him for a moment, then takes a deep breath. “Well, then we need a urine sample.”
“I’m sorry, officer, I can’t do that either.”
By now, the officer is visibly frustrated. “And why not?”
“I am also a diabetic. If I do that, I’ll get really low blood sugar.”
The officer rubs his forehead, wondering how one driver could possibly have every medical condition imaginable. Finally, he points toward the road and says, “All right, then. I need you to come out here and walk this white line.”
The man immediately shakes his head. “I can’t do that, officer.”
The officer throws his hands up in frustration. “Why not?”
The man looks him straight in the eye, pauses dramatically, and finally gives him the one answer that explains everything.
“Because I’m too drunk.”
