A man goes to the confessional and begins, “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”
“What is your sin, my son?” the priest asks back.
“Well,” the man starts, “I used some horrible language this week and I feel absolutely terrible.”
“When did you use this awful language?” asks 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,” says the man. “After that, a squirrel ran out of the bushes and grabbed my ball in its mouth, and began to run away.”
“Is that when you swore?” asks the priest again.
“Well, no,” says 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?” asks the amazed priest.
“No, not yet,” the man replies. “As the eagle carried the squirrel away in his claws, it flew toward the green. As it passed over a bit of forest near the green, the squirrel dropped my ball.”
“Did you swear then?” asks the now impatient priest.
“No, because as the ball fell it struck a tree, bounced through some bushes, careened off a big rock, rolled through a sand trap onto the green, and stopped within six inches of the hole.”
The priest sighs. “You missed the putt, didn’t you?”
An old man went to the doctor complaining of a terrible pain in his leg. “I am afraid it’s just old age,” said the doctor, “there is nothing we can do about it.”
“That can’t be,” fumed the old man, “you don’t know what you are doing.”
“How can you possibly know I am wrong?” countered the doctor.
“Well it’s quite obvious,” the old man replied, “my other leg is fine, and it’s the exact same age!”
I was waiting tables at a country club when an elegantly dressed woman spilled Manhattan clam chowder all over her white linen skirt. She began furiously dabbing at it with a napkin. Having plenty of experience with getting out food stains, I asked, “Can I bring you some club soda?”
“Young lady,” she barked, “I’ll be the judge of when I’ve had enough to drink. Bring me another martini!”