A Skilled Golfer
A father, son and grandson went to the country club for their weekly round of golf. Just as they reached the first tee, a beautiful young blonde woman carrying her bag of clubs approached them.
She explained that the member who brought her to the club for a round of golf had an emergency that called him away and asked the trio whether she can join them. Naturally, the guys all agreed.
Smiling, the blonde thanked them and said, “Look, fellows, I work in a topless bar as a dancer, so nothing shocks me anymore. If any of you wants to smoke cigars, have a beer, bet, swear or tell off-color stories, or do anything that you normally do when playing a round together, go ahead. But, I enjoy playing golf, consider myself pretty good at it, so don’t try to coach me on how to play my shots.
With that the guys agreed to relax and invited her to drive first. All eyes were fastened on her shapely behind as she bent to place her ball on the tee. She then took her driver and hit the ball 270 yards down the middle, right in front of the green.
The father’s mouth was agape. “That was beautiful,” he said.
The blonde put her driver away and said, “I really didn’t get into it and I have faded it a little.”
After the three guys hit their drives and their second shots, the blonde took out a nine iron and lofted the ball within five feet of the hole (She was closest to the pin).
The son said, “Damn, lady, you played that perfectly.”
The blonde frowned and said, “It was a little weak. I’ve left a tricky little putt.” Before tapping in the five-footer for a birdie.
Having the honors, she drove first on the second hole and knocked the hell out of the ball, and it landed nearly 300 yards away smack in the middle of the fairway.
For the rest of the round the statuesque blonde continued to amaze the guys, quietly and methodically shooting for par or less on every hole.
When they arrived at the 18th green, the blonde was three under par, and has a very nasty 12-foot putt on an undulating green for a par.
She turned to the three guys and said, “I really want to thank you all for not acting like a bunch of chauvinists and telling me what club to use or how to play a shot, but I need this putt for a 69 and I’d really like to break 70 on this course. If any one of you can tell me how to make par on this hole, I’ll take him back to my apartment, pour some 25-year old Royal Salute Scotch in him, fix him dinner and then show him a good time the rest of the night.”
The yuppie son jumped at the thought. He strolled across the green, carefully eying the line of the putt and finally said, “Honey, aim about 6 inches to the right of the hole and hit it firm. It will get over that little hump and break right into the cup.”
The father knelt down and sighted the putt using his putter as a plumb. “Don’t listen to the kid, darlin’, you want to hit it softly 10 inches to the right and run it left down that little hogback, so it falls into the cup.”
The old gray haired grandfather walked over to the blonde’s ball, picked it up and handed it to the her and said,
“That’s a gimme, sweetheart. Your car or mine?”
Age will triumph over youth and skill every time!
She explained that the member who brought her to the club for a round of golf had an emergency that called him away and asked the trio whether she can join them. Naturally, the guys all agreed.
Smiling, the blonde thanked them and said, “Look, fellows, I work in a topless bar as a dancer, so nothing shocks me anymore. If any of you wants to smoke cigars, have a beer, bet, swear or tell off-color stories, or do anything that you normally do when playing a round together, go ahead. But, I enjoy playing golf, consider myself pretty good at it, so don’t try to coach me on how to play my shots.
With that the guys agreed to relax and invited her to drive first. All eyes were fastened on her shapely behind as she bent to place her ball on the tee. She then took her driver and hit the ball 270 yards down the middle, right in front of the green.
The father’s mouth was agape. “That was beautiful,” he said.
The blonde put her driver away and said, “I really didn’t get into it and I have faded it a little.”
After the three guys hit their drives and their second shots, the blonde took out a nine iron and lofted the ball within five feet of the hole (She was closest to the pin).
The son said, “Damn, lady, you played that perfectly.”
The blonde frowned and said, “It was a little weak. I’ve left a tricky little putt.” Before tapping in the five-footer for a birdie.
Having the honors, she drove first on the second hole and knocked the hell out of the ball, and it landed nearly 300 yards away smack in the middle of the fairway.
For the rest of the round the statuesque blonde continued to amaze the guys, quietly and methodically shooting for par or less on every hole.
When they arrived at the 18th green, the blonde was three under par, and has a very nasty 12-foot putt on an undulating green for a par.
She turned to the three guys and said, “I really want to thank you all for not acting like a bunch of chauvinists and telling me what club to use or how to play a shot, but I need this putt for a 69 and I’d really like to break 70 on this course. If any one of you can tell me how to make par on this hole, I’ll take him back to my apartment, pour some 25-year old Royal Salute Scotch in him, fix him dinner and then show him a good time the rest of the night.”
The yuppie son jumped at the thought. He strolled across the green, carefully eying the line of the putt and finally said, “Honey, aim about 6 inches to the right of the hole and hit it firm. It will get over that little hump and break right into the cup.”
The father knelt down and sighted the putt using his putter as a plumb. “Don’t listen to the kid, darlin’, you want to hit it softly 10 inches to the right and run it left down that little hogback, so it falls into the cup.”
The old gray haired grandfather walked over to the blonde’s ball, picked it up and handed it to the her and said,
“That’s a gimme, sweetheart. Your car or mine?”
Age will triumph over youth and skill every time!
Labels: Humor
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