A GOLFERS CONFESSION

A GOLFERS CONFESSION

A man goes to the confessional. “Forgive me father, for I have sinned.”
“What is your sin, my child?” the priest asks back.
“Well,” the man starts, “I used some horrible language this week and I feel absolutely terrible.”
“When did you do use this awful language?” said the priest.
“I was golfing and hit an incredible drive that looked like it was going to go over 250 yards, but it struck a phone line that was hanging over the fairway and fell straight down to the ground after going only about 100 yards.”
“Is that when you swore?”
“No, Father.” Said the man. “After that, a squirrel ran out of the bushes and grabbed my ball in his mouth and began to run away.”
“Is THAT when you swore?” asked the priest again.
“Well, no,” said the man, “You see, as the squirrel was running, an eagle came down out of the sky, grabbed the squirrel in his talons and began to fly away!”
“Is THAT when you swore?” asked the amazed priest.
“No, not yet.” The man replied. “As the eagle carried the squirrel away in his claws, it flew towards the green. And as it passed over a bit of forest near the green, the squirrel dropped my ball.”
“Did you swear THEN?” asked the now impatient priest.
“No, because as the ball fell it struck a tree, bounced through some bushes, careened off a big rock, and rolled through a sand trap onto the green and stopped within six inches of the hole.”
“You missed the damn putt, didn’t you?” sighed the priest.