Joke Pages

For you golf lovers only


It was hole number 12, that damn par 3 with a short lift over a creek to
an elevated green. The Hole of Sacrifice! Every time I played it, I
would bring brand new balls. The first new wall would be tossed into
the creek as a hopeful sacrifice to the golf gods. Afterwards, an old
"smiley" ball could hopefully be played safely from the tee onto the
green.

But there was something evil about this hole. No matter how one
approached it (psychologically) one new ball had to be either (1) hit
into to the creek, or (2) gashed into a horrible "smiling" semblance of
its former self. Tossing a new ball into the creek, a knowing and
willing sacrifice, would not appease the evil spirit that was the
poltergeist for this Hole from Hell.

On this fateful day, I was determine to exorcise myself of this demon.
I laughed as I teed up a new ball. "Aren't you going to give one up for
the creek god?" my friends asked. "NO!" said I, "for even THEN doth the
beast not still demand an even further offerring? I will play this hole
au natural! I will defeat this beast!"

Amid wide eyed stares of wonder, I addressed the ball. It was really
such an easy, 50 yard pitch. All one had to do was overcome the
mysterious attraction that the creek demon held for small white objects
propelled over it. Keeping a head down so as to not stare into the
abyss, a single cool and concentrated shot would forever lift this
curse! So what that it would require the power of a DRIVER --- for the
first time, the ball was going to clear that accursed creek, no matter
what distance it was propelled beyond!

The mighty swing, the crushing contact, the ethereal flight of the ball!
The magnetic attraction pulled downwards on it. The ball embedded
itself into the far bank of the creek, dissappearing into the accursed,
festering malice.

The shaft of the driver became strangely distorted as it wound itself
around the tree next to the tee. "THAT'S IT!" I explained to my
compatriots, "I will never as long as I live set foot on another glof
course!"

"Oh, sure" they said.

With the determination of a great quest, the remainder of the clubs,
balls, tees... even the bag. They were all deposited into the creek.

"Here, you creep! You want them! Take ALL OF IT!"

In a stunned silence, my co-conspirators watched as I walked away,
heading for the club house, swearing never to set foot on such a place
of evil again. "He'll be back," I heard as I departed, though my
friends clearly knew not the wrath that this demon had evoked.
Now a threesome, they continued to attack (and yet be consumed) by this
Hole from Hell. As they scored their 5, 7, and 8, they noted that I had
returned.

They watched in wonder as I waded into the creek and retrieved the bag
that had once held what I so recently had regarded as my clubs, my
balls, and my tees. They smiled to themselves as they saw me drag this
encumberance to the shore and lifted it onto the bank. The winked
knowingly as I climbed out and began to search through the pockets on
the bag.

But then, I actually *FOUND* the object of my search. MY CAR KEYS!
With even greater vigor than before, I redeposited the bag, the clubs,
the balls, and the tees back into the creek, back to that evil
infestation that to this day still haunts the Hole from Hell, and once
again I stormed off the course.

I have never since let my shadow fall on upon such territory.

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A man dies and approaches the pearly gates where he encounters St.
Peter. "Ah", says St. Peter, "we've been expecting you. I'd like to let
you walk through the pearly gates here, and looking through my book, I
notice you've lived a good life.... BUT... I see that one time, ONE
TIME, you got a little angry and said the "F" word, didn't you?"

"Yes", says the man," but it was only one time."

St. Peter: "Well, I've been known to make an exception when there are
extenuating circumstances."

Man: "Well, I said the "F" word when I was playing golf.."

St. Peter: "Oh, so you're a golfer, are you? Well that explains a
lot. Go ahead and tell me why you said the "F" word."

Man: "Well, I was playing in a tournament, and I had a one stroke lead.
As I started into my backswing for my drive on the last hole, just at
the peak of my swing, I realized that I had chosen the wrong club! I
had the five iron instead of the four iron..."

St. Peter: "And THAT'S when you said the "F" word?"

Man: "Well, no, as it turned out I hit the five iron shot of my life!
The ball was headed straight up the fairway, when all of a sudden, a
passing bird flew right into the ball's path..."

St. Peter: "You said the "F" word then, didn't you?"

Man: "Well, no, just as the bird got to the ball, it started to hook,
and the bird actually helped direct the ball towards the green where it
landed and started to roll towards the cup! It was rolling really well,
when all of a sudden, a squirrel came onto the green and came towards my
ball..."

St. Peter: "The "F" word, you said it then, yes?"

Man: "Well, the squirrel actually pushed the ball towards the hole,
where it stopped rolling just about 3 inches from the cup..."

St. Peter: "JESUS CHRIST, MAN! YOU DIDN'T MISS THE F'@#%*$#@ PUTT, DID
YOU??"
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A Priest and a golfer went golfing. The golfer got on the first hole and
shot his drive into the water.

"Damn, missed," he said. The priest replied "Don't swear, God's gonna'
get you for it." On the third hole he had a put to birdie. He shot and missed.

"Damn, missed again," he yelled! Once again the
priest replied, "Don't swear, God's gonna' get you for it." Finally they
go to the last hole.

The golfer has a chance to win the game. He misses. "Damnit, missed again."
Again the priest warned him but was cut short when he heard a boom of thunder.

Suddenly the clouds opened up. A bolt of lightning
came down and struck the priest dead. A deep voice boomed over the
horizon saying: "Damn, missed again."


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