snowyday Posted May 28, 2011 Share Posted May 28, 2011 At a certain western mountain resort they still talk about a fabulous foursome playing poker and golf and imbibing good Scotch whiskey. One morning after three days and nights of poker playing and drinking the four pleasure seeking gentlemen trickled out on to the golf course. The eldest of the foursome, a spent old gentleman of 70, laid fumbling hands on a club and stepped forward to address the ball. As his blood-shot eyes came to focus on the woefully tiny pellet and his arms, shaking like aspen leaves, drew back to deliver the stroke, a dreadful thing occurred—a big shaggy brown dog dashed from behind the clubhouse, shot across the green, and streaked between his legs. Without batting an eye—calm, careful, calculating—the old boy smacked the ball, far and straight down the fairway, a phenomenal shot! “What a shot!†his companions yelled. “And with that dog running between your legs, too!†The Scotch-soaked old gentleman gasped, dropped his club, and shrieked, “Lord Almighty! Don’t tell me that was a real dog!†July 1947 * * * * snowyday Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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