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Verne was teeing off from the men's tee. On his downswing, he realized that his wife, Joy, was teeing up on the woman's tee directly in front of him. Unable to stop his swing, he nailed it, and hit her directly in the temple, killing her instantly.
A few days later, Verne got a call from the coroner regarding her*autopsy.
Coroner: "Verne, your wife seemed to have died from blunt force-trauma to the head. You said you hit a golf ball and hit her in the temple, is that correct?"
Verne: "Yes, sir, that's correct."
Coroner: "Well, inexplicably I found a golf ball wedged in her ass."
Verne: "Was it a Titlist 3?"
Coroner: "Why yes, it was."
Verne: "That was my mulligan.”
A few days later, Verne got a call from the coroner regarding her*autopsy.
Coroner: "Verne, your wife seemed to have died from blunt force-trauma to the head. You said you hit a golf ball and hit her in the temple, is that correct?"
Verne: "Yes, sir, that's correct."
Coroner: "Well, inexplicably I found a golf ball wedged in her ass."
Verne: "Was it a Titlist 3?"
Coroner: "Why yes, it was."
Verne: "That was my mulligan.”
Bob and Fred, big golf nuts, tried for months to get a tee time at the new PGA-ready golf course. When they finally succeded, the only tee time they were able to get was at 7:00am, but they didn't care: they were going to play the big course!
The morning of the big event, Bob got up at 4:30am to get ready. By 5:30, he had showered, shaved, dressed, and eaten breakfast, and was on his way out the door.
"Fred and I will probably grab lunch after we hit the links, but I should be back fairly easrly this afternoon," he said. With that, he kissed his wife goodbye, and headed off to the course.
One o'clock rolled around, then two, three, and four o'clock. His wife didn't worry too much; she figured that he and Fred had just gone out for drinks. As the ours got later, though, without even a call, she began to get worried.
At ten, she was about to call the police when Bob came straggling through the door.
"What on earth happened to you?"
Bob slumped into the chair. "You wouldn't believe what happened this morning.
"First off, Fred overslept, and by the time he got ready, we just barely had time to make the tee time.
"We got almost a mile down the road when we had a flat tire. By the time we got it changed, it was rush hour, so when we finally got to the course, it was an hour past our time, and they'd given our slot to someone else.
"Fred talked to the golf pro and explained our situation, and he found a later slot for us. We had to wait for hours, but we finally got to the first tee. Guess what happened on my first shot."
"What happened?" she asked.
"I got all of the ball, but it sliced off into the woods, and was lost. After that, it seemed to go OK, at least until we got to the third fairway."
"What happened then?" she asked nervously.
"Well, right in the middle of the fairway, Fred keeled over and died of a heart attack."
"Oh my God, that must have been awful!"
"Yeah. From then on, it was hit the ball, drag Fred, hit the ball, drag Fred..."
The morning of the big event, Bob got up at 4:30am to get ready. By 5:30, he had showered, shaved, dressed, and eaten breakfast, and was on his way out the door.
"Fred and I will probably grab lunch after we hit the links, but I should be back fairly easrly this afternoon," he said. With that, he kissed his wife goodbye, and headed off to the course.
One o'clock rolled around, then two, three, and four o'clock. His wife didn't worry too much; she figured that he and Fred had just gone out for drinks. As the ours got later, though, without even a call, she began to get worried.
At ten, she was about to call the police when Bob came straggling through the door.
"What on earth happened to you?"
Bob slumped into the chair. "You wouldn't believe what happened this morning.
"First off, Fred overslept, and by the time he got ready, we just barely had time to make the tee time.
"We got almost a mile down the road when we had a flat tire. By the time we got it changed, it was rush hour, so when we finally got to the course, it was an hour past our time, and they'd given our slot to someone else.
"Fred talked to the golf pro and explained our situation, and he found a later slot for us. We had to wait for hours, but we finally got to the first tee. Guess what happened on my first shot."
"What happened?" she asked.
"I got all of the ball, but it sliced off into the woods, and was lost. After that, it seemed to go OK, at least until we got to the third fairway."
"What happened then?" she asked nervously.
"Well, right in the middle of the fairway, Fred keeled over and died of a heart attack."
"Oh my God, that must have been awful!"
"Yeah. From then on, it was hit the ball, drag Fred, hit the ball, drag Fred..."
Ha. I enjoyed this. It hits close to home. My wife and I don't think we want to have kids, so when she was living in Mexico last year and told that to one of her Christian friends, he told her, "you are going against your God given purpose by not having kids." with all the seriousness in the world.
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