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I was in Newfoundland visiting my folks when myself and my cousin John got together with his friends one quiet night. We all had our half of Blue Star and were wondering where to go. The boys suggested going to drink in the graveyard nearby. I didn't really know what was on the go but followed along "like ya would". Eventually we were crawling over a rock fence and going into a field. We found a secluded spot and started drinking and chatting and generally having a decent time. I had a few before getting there plus I have TB (Tiny Bladder) so I was off for a pee almost as soon as we arrived and every few minutes after that. The time went by and it was soon time to leave. We all had a bit of a glow on, but I was loaded. I went base over tip trying to step over a grave and then I fell over the fence. I hardly had a leg under me. All the boys were laughing at me and making comments about how I couldn't handle my beer. John all but carried me home. The razing went on for a long time and I couldn't figure out how I got so loaded on just a 6 pack. Years later my dear cousin let it slip that every time I got up to pee, he topped up my bottle, laughing all the time. Never trust a relative when your pride is involved.
Signed Jerry
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