St Patricks Day New Orleans
It was St Patrick's Day and, even though the city was New Orleans, Murphy had
decided to celebrate it. He remembered starting off the pub crawl. He even remembered
the first seventeen beers and whiskey chasers. But after that his brain could
not recall any details.
All he knew was his head ached, his tongue was just a fuzz ball, his throat
throbbed and he had come to on a bed in a strange motel room.
Suddenly, a rustling noise made him turn to see a very large (200lbs) black
lady lying fully clad beside him. In her hair was a crumpled paper bow, and streamers
drooped over her shoulders.
'My God, who are you?' spluttered Murphy.
'I don't know honey,' she replied. 'But last night I was the Rose of Tralee!'