Man Falls Off His Barstool

I'm sitting in a bar, having a drink. To my right, the guy at the next barstool keeps falling off and onto the floor. I pick him up each time. Finally, I said, "Bartender, where does this guy live? He must really be bombed. I'll give him a lift home."

The bartender tells me where the guy lives. I grab the fellow, dragl him down to the car, open the back door, he falls down. I pick him up, put him in the back seat. I get to the address they gave me. I pull him out, he falls down three more times. I pick him up each time. I knock on the door. "Mrs. Phillips, I brought your husband home."

She says, "Where's his wheelchair?"