The Reverend John Fuzz was a pastor of a small congregation in a little Pennsylvania town. One day, walking down Main St., he noticed a female member of his congregation sitting in the town bar, drinking beer.
The reverend thought this was sinful and not something a member of his congregation should do. He walked through the open door of the bar and sat down next to the woman.
“Mrs. Fitzgerald,” the reverend said sternly. “This is no place for a member of my congregation. Why don’t you let me take you home?” “Sure,” she said with a slur, obviously very drunk.
When Mrs. Fitzgerald stood up from the bar, she began to weave back and forth. The reverend realized that she had had too much to drink grabbed her arms to steady her.
When he did, they both lost their balance and tumbled to the floor. After rolling around for a few seconds, the reverend wound up laying on top of Mrs. Fitzgerald, her skirt hiked up to her waist.
The bartender looked over the bar and said, “Here, here buddy, we won’t have any of that carrying around in this bar!”
The reverend looked up at the bartender and said, “But you don’t understand, I’m Pastor Fuzz.”
The bartender nodded and said, “Hell then, if you’re that far in, you might as well finish up.”