A small Lodge had a string of bad luck. It was preparing to initiate a candidate on a steamy evening in June and it's air conditioner had stopped working. After sweating their way through part of the work, the Master had asked the candidate what he most desired.
The candidate replied "a beer".
At this juncture the WM., being startled, whispered "light" to the candidate.
"OK," the candidate replied, "a lite beer."
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