My thumb joke.
It's an early evening in a dark and smoky downtown bar. Two thumbs are sitting side by side on barstools, quaffing beer and talking.
"Hey," says the first thumb, "you're Irish, aren't you? I'd recognize that accent anywhere!" "Of course I'm Irish," says the second thumb. "Well, saints be praised, so am I!" replies the first. "Let me buy you a beer. "So Joe the bartender brings each of them another beer.
After a bit, the second thumb asks the first, "What part of the auld sod is your family from?" "Dublin," comes the reply. "Really? That's where my family is from! My turn to buy YOU a drink. "So the second thumb calls over the bartender and they toast one another with their beers and keep talking.
"Where exactly in Dublin are you from?" asks the second thumb. "We lived on Killarney Street, on the west side of town," answers the first. "I can't believe this!" cries the second thumb. "I used to live on Killarney Street too." He waves at the bartender: "Joe, I want to buy this thumb another beer, and pour one for yourself while you're about it. "So, Joe brings over two more beers and pours one for himself.
"Wow," says the first thumb. "This is really amazing! What was your mother's name?" "Her name was Mary, may she rest in the arms of our heavenly father," comes the reply. "What!" Gasps the first thumb. "My mother's name was also Mary, may she rest in peace. Joe -- tell everyone in the place that the next round's on me!" So, Joe sets up everyone in the place with their next drink.
About this time another thumb comes in and sits down at the far end of the bar and motions Joe to bring him a whiskey. "Hiya, Joe," he says, reaching for his wallet. "How're things?" "Same-old, same-old," Joe answers, polishing a bit of brass with his apron. "The grill's on the fritz, the wife's sore at me, and -- oh, yeah -- the Thumb twins are plastered again."
