My Luck

The rain was pouring down, and there, by a large puddle outside a pub, stood an old Irishman, completely soaked. He was holding a stick with a piece of string dangling into the water.

A passer-by, curious and feeling a bit sorry for him, stopped and asked, "What are you doing?"

"Fishing," the old man replied.

Feeling bad for him, the gentleman said, "Why don't you come in out of the rain and have a drink with me?"

Grateful, the old man followed him inside, and soon they were sitting in the warmth of the pub, sipping on their whiskies. After a while, the gentleman couldn’t help but ask, "So, how many have you caught today?"

The old man looked up with a smile and said, "You're the eighth."