An old man retires to a coastal village in the west of Ireland and soon becomes something of a curiosity in the local pub.
Every evening, he'd come in, order three pints of Guinness at the same time and proceeds to drink from each of them until they are all empty. Some nights, he even repeats the trick but at no point would he engage in conversation with those around him.
Eventually, the barman sidles over and asks him why he takes his drink in such a peculiar fashion.
"You see," he explained, "I have two brothers. One lad lives in Boston and the other in Melbourne. Every night, the three of us perform this ritual because it's the closest we can ever come again to the three of us having a pint together."
Satisfied, the villagers leave the old man to do his thing and, over the course of time, they become accustomed to his way.
One day, however, he walked in the door and calls just the two pints of Guinness and proceeds to drink them in the same manner. The villagers look at each other knowingly. They feel sad for the old man but try to respect his privacy. For a few weeks, the old man continues to order only two pints at a time and the townsfolk begin to think about how they might let the man know that they're thinking of him in his difficult hour.
Eventually, the curious barman approaches again to offer condolences on the old man's loss.
"The rest of the lads were wondering if you would like us to ask Father Flynn to say a Mass for the repose of the soul of your brother?"
"Why would ye want to do that?" the old man replied.
"Sure, did one of them not die, now that you're only having the two pints?"
"Not at all! They're both in fine fettle - but the doctor told me I had to give up the drink!"
Every evening, he'd come in, order three pints of Guinness at the same time and proceeds to drink from each of them until they are all empty. Some nights, he even repeats the trick but at no point would he engage in conversation with those around him.
Eventually, the barman sidles over and asks him why he takes his drink in such a peculiar fashion.
"You see," he explained, "I have two brothers. One lad lives in Boston and the other in Melbourne. Every night, the three of us perform this ritual because it's the closest we can ever come again to the three of us having a pint together."
Satisfied, the villagers leave the old man to do his thing and, over the course of time, they become accustomed to his way.
One day, however, he walked in the door and calls just the two pints of Guinness and proceeds to drink them in the same manner. The villagers look at each other knowingly. They feel sad for the old man but try to respect his privacy. For a few weeks, the old man continues to order only two pints at a time and the townsfolk begin to think about how they might let the man know that they're thinking of him in his difficult hour.
Eventually, the curious barman approaches again to offer condolences on the old man's loss.
"The rest of the lads were wondering if you would like us to ask Father Flynn to say a Mass for the repose of the soul of your brother?"
"Why would ye want to do that?" the old man replied.
"Sure, did one of them not die, now that you're only having the two pints?"
"Not at all! They're both in fine fettle - but the doctor told me I had to give up the drink!"