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
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
"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."