Paddy replies, ‘OK Mick, I’ll be on my way then.’

Paddy spins around on his stool and steps off.  He falls flat on his
face. ‘What the….’ he says and pulls himself up by the stool and dusts
himself off. He takes a step towards the door and falls flat on his face
again. ‘Damn!’ he  says.  He looks to the doorway and thinks that if he
can just get to the door and get some fresh air he’ll be fine.

He belly crawls to the door and shimmies up the door frame.  He sticks
his head outside and takes a deep breath of fresh air, feels much better
and takes a step out onto the pavement and falls flat on his face.

‘Bi’ Jesus… I’m soused,’ he says.  He can see his house just a few  
doors down, and decides to try for it.  He crawls down the street and
shimmies up the door frame, opens the door and looks inside.

He takes a look up the stairs and says, ‘No flippin’ way.’  But he
somehow crawls up the stairs to his bedroom door and thinks, ‘I think I
can make it to the bed.’ He takes a step into the room and falls flat on
his face again. He says, ‘This is hell.  I gotta stop drinking,’ but
manages to crawl to the bed and fall in.

The next morning, his wife comes into the room carrying a cup of coffee
and says, ‘Get up Paddy.  Did you have a wee bit to drink last night?’

Paddy says, ‘I did Jess.  I was totally pissfaced.  But how’d you know?’

‘Mick called.. You left your wheelchair at the pub.’