An Irishman named Darren went to his doctor after a long illness. The doctor, after a lengthy examination, sighed and looked Darren in the eye, and said, “I`ve some bad news for you. You have cancer, and it can`t be cured. I`d give you two weeks to a month to live.”
Darren was shocked and saddened by the news but was of solid character. He managed to compose himself and walk from the doctor`s office into the waiting room. There, he saw his son who had been waiting.
Darren, “Well, son. We Irish celebrate when things are good, and we celebrate when things don`t go so well. In this case, things aren`t so well. I have cancer, and I`ve been given a short time to live. Let`s head for the pub and have a few pints.”
After 3 or 4 pints, the two were feeling a little less somber. There were some laughs and more beers. They were eventually approached by some of Darren old friends who asked what the two were celebrating. Darren told them that the Irish celebrate the good and the bad. He went on to tell them that they were drinking to his impending end.
Darren told his friends, “I`ve only got a few weeks to live as I have been diagnosed with AIDS.”
The friends gave Darren their condolences, and they had a couple more beers.
After his friends left, Darren`s son leaned over and whispered his confusion.
“Dad, I thought you said that you were dying from cancer! You just told your friends that you were dying from AIDS!” Darren said, “I am dying of cancer, son. I just don`t want any of them sleeping with your mother after I`m gone.”