
“I wasn’t really sure what it was,” Jones admitted, “but it sounded like a good Celtic drink so I said ‘cool.’”
Raising their half pints of Guinness, the two drinking buddies clinked glasses, dropped a mixture of Bailey’s Irish Cream and Jameson’s whiskey into the thick, black stout and chugged.
By last call, Campbell and Jones had each consumed seven Irish Car Bombs. When they stepped out into the chilly March air, the bombs began to detonate.
“My stomach just exploded!” Campbell said. “I could not stop puking!”
“I know, dude,” Jones added, “I felt like the IRA was holding a protest rally inside my fuckin’ guts!”
“We just wanna be ready for all the boozin we’re gonna do,” explained Jones. “Small price to pay for a St. Paddy’s champ out!”
Medics were called in to defuse the situation.
“God, do I hate St. Patrick’s Day!” said EMS Todd Peterson. “It’s like a designated holiday for amateur drinkers and assholes! And that’s a bad combo.”
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