At dawn the telephone rings, “Hello, Senor Rod? This is Ernesto, the caretaker at your country house.” “Ah yes, Ernesto. What can I do for you? Is there a problem?” “Um, I am just calling to advise you, Senor Rod, that your parrot, he is dead” “My parrot? Dead? The one that won the International competition?” “Si, Senor, that’s the one.” “Damn! That’s a pity! I spent a small fortune on that bird. What did he die from?” “From eating the rotten meat, Senor Rod.” “Rotten meat? Who the hell fed him rotten meat?” “Nobody, Senor. He ate the meat of the dead horse.” “Dead horse? What dead horse?” “The thoroughbred, Senor Rod.” “My prize thoroughbred is dead?” “Yes Senor Rod, he died from all that work pulling the water cart.” “Are you insane?? What water cart?” “The one we used to put out the fire, Senor.” “Good Lord!! What fire are you talking about, man??” “The one at your house, Senor! A candle fell and the curtains caught on fire.” “What the hell?? Are you saying that my mansion is destroyed because of a candle?? !!” “Yes, Senor Rod.” “But there’s electricity at the house!! What was the candle for?” “For the funeral, Senor Rod.” “WHAT BLOODY FUNERAL??!!” “Your wife’s, Senor Rod”, she showed up very late one night and I thought she was a thief, so I hit her with your new tailor made Super Quad 460 golf club.” SILENCE . . . . . . . . . . . LONG SILENCE . . . . . . . . . . “Ernesto, if you broke that driver, you’re in deep shit!!”
March 27, 2008, 10:02 pm at 10:02 pm
For damn sure Missredi, tough to find a good driver. Trust me I know…:). You are correct, place is getting way to serious.
March 27, 2008, 11:31 pm at 11:31 pm
Mr. H could definitely relate. I have taken second place to his beloved golf clubs for years.
March 28, 2008, 12:16 am at 12:16 am
I was under the impression (from Blairistan) that a good putter was hard to find. Is Tiz trying to tell us that his problems may be ……… more systemic!?
What’s next? The sun angle is too low for that bermuda grass.