The Reverend John Flapps was the pastor in a small Texas town. One day he was walking down Main Street and he noticed a young lady of his congregation sitting in a bar drinking beer. The preacher wasn't happy. He walked through the open door of the bar and sat down next to the woman.
"Mrs Fitzgerald," he 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'd had far too much to drink and 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 moments, the preacher wound up on top of Mrs Fitzgerald, her skirt hiked up to her waist. The bartender looked over and said, "Pardner, we won't have any of that carrying on in this bar."
The preacher looked up at the bartender and said, "But you don't understand, I'm Pastor Flapps."
The bartend nodded and said, "Oh well, if you're that far in, you might as well finish."