Don't Stop Laughing Now!

Overview

The best of the best---stories, one-liners, and jokes from some of today’s funniest Christian speakers and best-selling writers This new book, like its best-selling predecessors, is packed with the kind of smiles and smirks, chuckles and giggles that thousands of readers have come to love and expect. It includes some of the funniest stories from today’s Christian writers like Barbara Johnson, John Ortberg, Mark Buchanan, Patsy Clairmont, Becky Freeman, Chonda Pierce, and more. Whether the topic is kids, marriage,...
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Overview

The best of the best---stories, one-liners, and jokes from some of today’s funniest Christian speakers and best-selling writers This new book, like its best-selling predecessors, is packed with the kind of smiles and smirks, chuckles and giggles that thousands of readers have come to love and expect. It includes some of the funniest stories from today’s Christian writers like Barbara Johnson, John Ortberg, Mark Buchanan, Patsy Clairmont, Becky Freeman, Chonda Pierce, and more. Whether the topic is kids, marriage, pets, church, parenting, aging, or life’s most embarrassing moments, the writers will help you keep life in perspective by revealing their own foibles, follies, and failings. Realizing that laughter and faith can go hand in hand, they offer real-life anecdotes that will keep your world in balance even---and especially---when life gets tough.
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Editorial Reviews

Publishers Weekly - Publisher's Weekly
Seasoned comedic authors Spangler (She Who Laughs, Lasts!) and MacDonald (Humor for the Heart) draw upon Christendom's funniest writers and speakers for some "laugh till you drop" stories, quips and anecdotes of life experiences. Well-regarded comediennes Barbara Johnson, Chonda Pierce, Patsy Clairmont, Luci Swindoll, Sheila Walsh and Marilyn Meberg are some of the many contributors. The target audience is clearly women, but a few male writers offer pieces as well: Christian comics Ken Davis and Mark Lowry add to the ensemble, along with syndicated columnist Dave Barry, who contributes a piece that is long on gender humor but devoid of Christian content. In over 75 hilarious stories, Spangler and MacDonald have accomplished their goal of finding joy amidst some of life's not-so-humorous happenings. With a simple twist in perspective and a quick nod toward heaven, the disastrous is transformed into the deliriously funny. Take Becky Freeman's step back into the college scene as a middle-aged wife and mother; on her first day, she receives a shock to her already stressed self-esteem. Enter a good friend/hairdresser boldly attempting to turn back the ravages of time with hair color, which ends up giving more color... but less hair. Illness, marriage, kids, money, eating, vacationing: no topic is out of range when a group of women, intent on seeing the sunny side of life, get together for a laugh. Regrettably, this compilation will likely only appeal to female readers, whose male counterparts won't see past the floral cover and predominantly female-oriented topics. (Jan.) Copyright 2001 Cahners Business Information.
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780310239963
  • Publisher: Zondervan
  • Publication date: 1/1/2002
  • Series: Women of Faith Series
  • Pages: 256
  • Sales rank: 795,421
  • Product dimensions: 5.44 (w) x 8.44 (h) x 0.69 (d)

Meet the Author

Ann Spangler is the award-winning author of several best-selling books, including Women of the Bible (with Jean Syswerda), Praying the Names of God, and Praying the Names of Jesus. She is also the general editor of The Names of God Bible., Her latest book is Praying the Attributes of God. Together her books have sold millions of copies. She and her two daughters live in Grand Rapids, Michigan. www.annspangler.com

Shari MacDonald is the author of numerous Christian novels, coauthor of such titles as 'The Creative Memories Way', and compiler of several humor compilations, including 'Humor for a Mom’s Heart'. She and her husband, live in Portland, Oregon with their twin sons.

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Read an Excerpt

Don't Stop Laughing Now!

Stories to Tickle Your Funny Bone and Strengthen Your Faith
By Ann Spangler Shari MacDonald

Zondervan

Copyright © 2002 Ann Spangler
All right reserved.


Chapter One

Psst ... Has Anyone Seen a Table I Can Crawl Under?

Things are going to get a lot worse before they get worse. -Lily Tomlin

I try to take one day at a time, but sometimes several days attack me at once. -Jennifer Unlimited

If you can't be a good example, then you'll just have to be a horrible warning. -Catherine Aird

Inevitably, the funniest stories are usually the ones we tell on ourselves. Sometimes these stories are down-right embarrassing. But once we put away our punctured pride and dust off our damaged dignity, they can become an endless source of amusement. The ability to laugh at ourselves is surely a sign that all is well with our souls.

Humbled by a Pine Tree

Stan Toler

Many years ago, I was privileged to serve as the first pastoral staff member of John Maxwell at Faith Memorial Church in Lancaster, Ohio. John, a noted author, lecturer, and former senior pastor of the Skyline Wesleyan Church, has been my mentor for more than twenty years. He has guided me in matters of leadership, preaching, evangelism, and church growth. And from time to time, John, who is an excellent golfer, has felt the need to mentor me in the great game of golf.

On one rainy fall day many years ago in Lancaster, I was working on a project when the intercom buzzer sounded. "Toler," the booming voice of Maxwell said, "let's play 18!"

What a welcome diversion! I thought to myself. In a matter of minutes, we loaded our golf clubs into John's 1972 Ford Pinto and hurried to the nearby Carrollwood golf course. Since it was raining steadily, the course was not crowded and we were able to tee off immediately.

For the first five holes, it appeared that the Maxwell Mentoring Course on golf was working. "What a great game-thanks for asking me to come along," I said to John.

As we approached the sixth tee box, I courageously asked John to loan me his three-wood. He was proud of his new clubs and most willing to share them with his prized pupil. I stepped up to the tee box and took a practice swing. Feeling ready, I swung mightily at the little white ball.

To this day, I don't remember whether I actually hit that ball, but what I do remember is the club slipping out of my hands and sailing twenty feet into the air. Embarrassing? You bet! And if that wasn't humbling enough, the three-wood landed in a pine tree. Maxwell was in a state of utter disbelief.

"You just threw my new club into a tree!" he cried. "How on earth are we going to get it down?"

Mustering all the confidence I had, I said, "Give me your shoe." Obediently, John sat down on the cart and handed me his golf shoe. I carefully aimed his shoe at the club and gave it a mighty heave, expecting it to knock the club out of the pine tree. To my dismay, his shoe got stuck in the same tree.

Undaunted, I said, "Give me your other shoe." Again, without arguing, John handed his other shoe to me. Taking better aim, I tossed his shoe at the club, and missed again! Can you believe it? The second shoe stayed in the tree also.

As the drizzle started to become a downpour, Maxwell stood up and said, "Toler, you big dummy! No, wait a minute-I'm the dummy! Stan, give me your shoe!"

In a spirit of cooperation-and fear-I took off my shoe and handed it to him. And why not? He had a three-wood and two golf shoes in that pine tree. Taking careful aim, he threw my shoe at the club. Up it went, approximately eighteen feet in the air, and missed everything. Feeling more confident, I picked up my shoe and tossed it at the club. It missed the club, but as it fell downward, it knocked one of John's shoes loose. In the process, however, my shoe got stuck in the tree. John immediately grabbed his shoe that had fallen to the ground and clutched it defensively. Now neither of us had a complete pair of shoes, and still the golf club was stuck in the tree.

By this time, several other golfers had passed the sixth tee, observing this Laurel and Hardy comedy routine. Remarkably, most did not speak or offer to help us. (Can you blame them?)

When every effort had failed in retrieving the golf club, my esteemed friend finally climbed the huge pine tree and personally retrieved the club and our shoes. At that point, it began to thunder, and the rain was coming down even harder. The only thing left to do was quit for the day and go to the clubhouse for hot chocolate.

Feeling embarrassed and helpless, we drove rapidly across the course to the clubhouse. As John opened the door, the room became silent. And that's when paranoia instantly gripped us. Sure enough, the other golfers had told on us! As we stood in the doorway, laughter erupted like you've never heard.

We shut the door, turned right around, and went straight home. And believe me, it was a long time before we played golf there again.

The Almond Joy Incident

Cathy Lee Phillips

It all started with a simple glass of water. It was Day Fourteen of my Weight Watchers diet, and I was doing great! I'd lost seven pounds by carefully keeping track of my food exchanges. For two weeks I'd successfully avoided hamburgers and cheesecake. I was following the regime religiously in all areas but one-I simply couldn't drink eight glasses of water a day. Impossible! I could never get further than glass number six. I spent the rest of the day trotting to the nearest bathroom.

Nevertheless, on this particular Saturday, I was determined that nothing would deter me from consuming the prescribed eight glasses. Nothing! So I panicked at 11:36 P.M. when I realized I'd only had seven glasses of water. Only twenty-four meager minutes until midnight. Could I do it?

Despite the late hour and the danger of bladder-related sleep deprivation, I braced myself for one more glass of water. In the kitchen I grabbed a glass and sliced a fresh, juicy lemon. The nightmare began when I opened the freezer for a few cubes of ice. It was lying there, innocently tucked behind a few stray cartons of frozen yogurt and two packs of Weight Watchers frozen lasagna. How it got there is still a mystery. I only know that my eyes grew wide and my heart beat wildly.

An Almond Joy! Two simple bits of coconut, each bathed in milk chocolate and crowned with a large crunchy almond, swaddled in a beautiful blue wrapper. An Almond Joy!

Rationalization was easy. I'd been on my diet for two weeks and had lost seven pounds. Surely one simple candy bar wouldn't harm me. I probably needed the sugar in my system after not having had any for, lo, these fourteen days. And it was an awfully hot night so the candy bar would be especially cool and refreshing. Besides, it wasn't as if I'd been looking for an Almond Joy. On the contrary, the Almond Joy had found me!

Best of all, my husband, Jerry, was sleeping soundly. He would never know. No one would ever know. It was all so perfect. Surely it was God's will that I eat this Almond Joy!

Grabbing the candy bar and my number eight glass of water, I raced for the sofa. I crossed my legs underneath me, aimed the TV remote, and found a MASH rerun. Perfect! Quite deliberately I unwrapped my newfound treasure from its bright blue cover and held it aloft. Life was suddenly very exciting.

The candy bar was frozen but not too firm against my teeth. It was cool and sweet. And it was all mine. No one would ever know that I'd surrendered my diet for this piece of heaven that had so unexpectedly entered my life.

I ate it all. Every bit of coconut, every dab of chocolate, every crumb of almond. And because I had something to eat, it was so much easier to drink my number eight glass of water.

Turning off the TV, I placed my empty glass in the sink and popped the bright blue wrapper in the trash can. Risking a mouthful of cavities, I didn't even stop to brush my teeth. I fell asleep with the taste of Almond Joy still dancing in my mouth.

My husband, a pastor, awoke early the next morning to put the finishing touches on his sermon. While I slept soundly, he puttered in the kitchen, toasting some bread and pouring himself a tall glass of orange juice. Emptying the carton, he opened the pantry door and reached for the garbage can. The bag was full. As he bent to remove it, Jerry discovered the remains of a bright blue Almond Joy wrapper perched atop the other miscellaneous garbage.

What is this? he thought to himself. He didn't remember eating a candy bar. And knowing I was religiously following the Weight Watchers diet, he was puzzled by the object that had somehow found its way into our garbage can. Clutching the wrapper to his chest, he walked quietly back to the bedroom where I slept, unaware of the trouble at hand.

"Cathy," he nudged me gently. Opening one eye slowly, I looked into his loving face. He smiled at me. I smiled back. Was he feeling romantic at this hour? And on a Sunday morning? Then, almost immediately, I caught sight of a familiar bright blue piece of paper in his hand. Could it be? Jerry dangled the wrapper above me, a clever smirk on his face.

"Do you want to tell me about this?" he asked. The smirk grew larger.

It wasn't that my husband noticed every pound I gained or lost. He loved me regardless of my weight or the number of Almond Joys I might consume. I knew that without question.

It was the smirk.

That arrogant little grin told me that my late-night escapade was no longer my little secret. I'd been found out.

So, why not just admit I'd found an Almond Joy and, in a moment of weakness, had eaten it? I knew I should have told the truth, but in the heat of the moment I panicked. I can only blame my actions on the "sinful" chocolate in my stomach and the smirk on my husband's face.

"The candy bar belonged to Ray Lathem," I blurted.

Ray Lathem, a good friend of ours and member of our church, lived across the street from our parsonage. Recently Ray had been placed on a strict eating program by his doctor, so he and I often shared our dieting successes and failures. I knew, therefore, that Ray would understand my Almond Joy experience. I would tell him about it after church and we would have a good laugh together.

"Last night, Ray Lathem knocked on our door," the lie began. "He'd been craving a candy bar all day but knew his family would never let him have one. Finally, he couldn't stand it! In a moment of weakness, he ate an Almond Joy he'd hidden in his truck. But he didn't know what to do with the wrapper. If his wife found it, she'd know he'd abandoned his diet. So Ray sneaked out of his house and knocked on our door. He had one simple request: Could he place the wrapper in our garbage can? What could I do? Of course I would let my friend and fellow dieter place the wrapper in our garbage can," I concluded with great emotion.

"That's your story?" Jerry's smirk filled the room.

"And I'm sticking to it," I replied, rather proud of the creativity I'd exhibited at such an early hour. I pulled the blanket over my head while Jerry, chuckling loudly, returned to his sermon and orange juice.

I put the story out of my mind until 11:35 A.M. when Jerry, beginning his sermon, reached inside his pocket and held the familiar wrapper before the entire congregation.

"Ray Lathem, does this belong to you?" the voice from the pulpit inquired.

Ray and his wife, Leila, were in their usual pew. Confused, Ray looked innocently at Leila, begging to be believed.

Knowing I had a sense of humor and had agreed to having the details of my life shared with the entire congregation, my husband relayed the story and then thanked me for providing the perfect illustration for his sermon entitled, appropriately enough, "The Devil Made Me Do It." The congregation laughed and laughed. And they kept laughing.

In fact, Ray laughed the loudest, delighted that I'd included him in my elaborate tale.

Afterwards, many people came up to me saying I was a good sport for being able to laugh at myself. And, before the day was done, more than two dozen Almond Joys had been brought to our home by sympathetic friends who themselves had fallen off the diet wagon at least once. With his wife's permission, I shared the goods with Ray Lathem.

During his sermon, Jerry shared the passage in Numbers 32 in which Moses told the Israelites their sins would find them out. Jerry said our sins would always find us out sooner or later too.

Mine sure did. I just pray I can learn to limit my sins to Almond Joys.

Icebreaker SOS

Sheri Rose Shepherd

When a group of women get together for a retreat without their husbands and children, there's no telling what will happen. At one particular gathering, the planners decided to have an icebreaker game before I began my presentation. They divided us into Group A and Group B and had a contest to see which group could turn in the most items from their collective purses.

First they called for lipsticks, and we all dug around in our purses to fish out our Cantaloupe Blush, Pouty Persimmon, or whatever, and passed it to the front. The next category was receipts, then breath mints, and so on down the line. The sides were pretty evenly matched, and by the final round the score was tied at nine points each. Whoever won the next round would be Purse Scavenger Champs, with bragging rights for the whole weekend.

I was in Group A, and we smelled victory right around the corner. We were pumped. The moderator prepared to announce the last category, pausing for dramatic effect as we sat with hands poised over our pocketbooks. "And now the championship category is ... tweezers."

One of my teammates in the back of the room pulled a pair of tweezers out of her bag and, instead of passing them, launched them toward the front, since time was an essential element of going for the gold. The tweezers flew through the air to where I sat in the front row and stuck like a blow dart in the back of my head. When I turned to see what happened-was the other side attacking us?-the tweezers fell out of my scalp, bounced off my shoulder, ricocheted off my lap, and ran my hose from knee to heel.

Of course it was now time for me to speak. Bloodied, battle scarred, and with no time to repair the damage (at least we won!), I took my place at the lectern. To my left was a big speaker box. "Is this in your way?" I asked the audience. "Yes!" they all shouted. Trying to be useful, I began loosening the clamp on the stand so I could lower it. Unfortunately, gravity had other plans. With a hair-raising screech, the speaker cabinet slid down the stand and pinched my hand. My eyes bulged. My heart pounded. My hand throbbed.

Continues...


Excerpted from Don't Stop Laughing Now! by Ann Spangler Shari MacDonald Copyright © 2002 by Ann Spangler. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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Table of Contents

Contents
Acknowledgments / 9
Preface / 11
Chapter One: Psst . . . Has Anyone Seen a Table I Can Crawl Under?
Humbled by a Pine Tree by Stan Toler / 17
The Almond Joy Incident by Cathy Lee Phillips / 19
Icebreaker SOS by Sheri Rose Shepherd / 23
A Complete Ensemble by Torry Martin as told to Martha Bolton / 25
Awkward Situations by Becky Freeman with Ruthie Arnold / 26
Chapter Two: I’m Okay . . . You, I’m Not So Sure About
The Perfect Woman by Anonymous / 31
Adam’s Bargain by Anonymous / 32
Read My Lips by Karen Scalf Linamen / 33
Women Tell What They Want in a Man by Anonymous / 35
They Need Help! by Thelma Wells / 37
The Loving Spouse by Anonymous / 39
Really Bad Day by Anonymous / 40
Steaming in the Southwest by Charlene Ann Baumbich / 41
Chapter Three: You Can’t Kid a Kid
The Revised Nonstandard Bible by Richard Lederer / 49
Struck by Wimpiness by Anonymous / 53
Just Kidding Around by Various Authors / 54
Love Tips as Explained by Kids by Anonymous / 61
I’ll Catch a Later Bus by Al Sanders / 65
Chapter Four: “Weird” Is a Two-Way Street
If You Could Read My Mind by G. Ron Darbee / 69
Celebrity Cover-Up by Martha Bolton / 74
Two Cannibals in Love by Charlene Ann Baumbich / 75
For 25 Years I Hated My Mop by Janice Crouse / 77
Wild Hares by Ken Davis / 80
High Adventure in the Garage by Charlene Ann Baumbich / 83
Pulling Strings by Patsy Clairmont / 86
Snore Warzzz by Nancy Kennedy / 87
No Batteries Required by Karen Scalf Linamen / 89
Chapter Five: Keeping Up (Strange) Appearances
Beauty for the Beast by Marti Attoun / 93
Nightmare on Perfect Street by Betty Smartt Carter / 95
I’m Surrounded by Teens with Uncommon Scents / 99
by Marti Attoun
Like Death Warmed Over by Becky Freeman with Ruthie Arnold / 101
Yo Quiero No Discount by Martha Bolton / 106
Chapter Six: Animal Antics:
Weird Humor from the Animal Kingdom
He’s Baaaaaack! by Ken Davis / 111
When in Rome by Shari MacDonald / 112
The Perfect Song by Sue Buchanan / 113
Welcome to the Bat Cave by Nate Adams / 115
The Polite Parrot by Anonymous / 118
Chapter Seven: Body of Laughter
I Yam What I Yam by Martha Bolton / 121
Mommyrobics by Nancy Kennedy / 123
A Diet Prayer by Victor Buono / 126
Counting Fat Grams by Chonda Pierce / 128
Chapter Eight: Parenting, the Funniest Job of All
Lamentations of the Father by Ian Frazier / 135
Deck the Halls with Poison Ivy by G. Ron Darbee / 139
Surprise, Surprise! by Barbara Johnson / 143
Picky, Picky by Nancy Kennedy / 146
The Great Toaster Tart Conspiracy by Randy Frame / 148
Chapter Nine: Real Men Do Laugh
Dental Advice by Mark Lowry / 153
How to Have a Relationship with a Guy by Dave Barry / 155
Airplane Babies by Mark Lowry / 158
Mr. Mom by James R. Judge, M.D. / 160
Chapter Ten: Hey, Moms Are Fun Too!
Help! I’ve Got TMS! by Nancy Kennedy / 167
Mama’s On Hold by Mark Lowry / 169
Hello by Patsy Clairmont / 171
And Her Husband Thought He Had a Stressful Job / 173
by Phil Callaway
Free at Last? by Pamela Shires Sneddon / 174
Chapter Eleven: Seize the Moment . . . for Laughter
I Dare You by Luci Swindoll / 179
Did I See That? by Marilyn Meberg / 181
Garth and Pat by Chonda Pierce / 183
You Drive Me Crazy by Marilyn Meberg / 185
Playful People by Marilyn Meberg / 188
Chapter Twelve: Hee, Hee, Hee . . . All the Way Home
Hey, Good Lookin’, Whatcha Got Burnin’? by Becky Freeman / 193
Young Love Turns Daughter into Teen Cleaning Machine / 195
by Marti Attoun
Household Skullduggery by Renae Bottom / 197
Home Beautiful by Marsha Crockett / 200
The Fashion Plate on My Front Yard by Marti Attoun / 202
Chapter Thirteen: A Woman’s Place Is . . . Laughing
PMS: Psychotic Mood Swings by Kathy Peel / 207
Mixed Blessings by Anonymous / 210
A Fun Day Composting with Martha Stewart / 211
by Chonda Pierce
Never Underestimate the Power of an Imperfect Woman / 215
by Karen Scalf Linamen
That Old Sew-and-Sew by Marilyn Meberg / 218
Chapter Fourteen: Life Is Unpredictable, but God Is Good
God’s Timing by Brennan Manning / 223
I Could Lose Myself in Tho
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First Chapter

Don't Stop Laughing Now!

Things are going to get a lot worse before they get worse.
--- Lily Tomlin
I try to take one day at a time,
but sometimes several days attack me at once.
--- Jennifer Unlimited
If you can't be a good example,
then you'll just have to be a horrible warning.
--- Catherine Aird
Inevitably, the funniest stories are usually the ones we tell on ourselves.
Sometimes these stories are downright embarrassing. But once we put away our punctured pride and dust off our damaged dignity, they can become an endless source of amusement. The ability to laugh at ourselves is surely a sign that all is well with our souls.
Psst . . . Has Anyone Seen a Table I Can Crawl Under?

Humbled by a Pine Tree
Stan Toler
Many years ago, I was privileged to serve as the first pastoral staff member of John Maxwell at Faith Memorial Church in
Lancaster, Ohio. John, a noted author, lecturer, and former senior pastor of the Skyline Wesleyan Church, has been my mentor for more than twenty years. He has guided me in matters of leadership,
preaching, evangelism, and church growth. And from time to time,
John, who is an excellent golfer, has felt the need to mentor me in the great game of golf.
On one rainy fall day many years ago in Lancaster, I was working on a project when the intercom buzzer sounded. 'Toler,' the booming voice of Maxwell said, 'let's play 18!'
What a welcome diversion! I thought to myself. In a matter of minutes,
we loaded our golf clubs into John's 1972 Ford Pinto and hurried to the nearby Carrollwood golf course. Since it was raining steadily, the course was not crowded and we were able to tee off immediately.
For the first five holes, it appeared that the Maxwell Mentoring
Course on golf was working. 'What a great game --- thanks for asking me to come along,' I said to John.
As we approached the sixth tee box, I courageously asked John to loan me his three-wood. He was proud of his new clubs and most willing to share them with his prized pupil. I stepped up to the tee box and took a practice swing. Feeling ready, I swung mightily at the little white ball.
To this day, I don't remember whether I actually hit that ball, but what I do remember is the club slipping out of my hands and sailing twenty feet into the air. Embarrassing? You bet! And if that wasn't humbling enough, the three-wood landed in a pine tree. Maxwell was in a state of utter disbelief.
'You just threw my new club into a tree!' he cried. 'How on earth are we going to get it down?'
Mustering all the confidence I had, I said, 'Give me your shoe.'
Obediently, John sat down on the cart and handed me his golf shoe.
I carefully aimed his shoe at the club and gave it a mighty heave,
expecting it to knock the club out of the pine tree. To my dismay, his shoe got stuck in the same tree.
Undaunted, I said, 'Give me your other shoe.' Again, without arguing, John handed his other shoe to me. Taking better aim, I
tossed his shoe at the club, and missed again! Can you believe it?
The second shoe stayed in the tree also.
As the drizzle started to become a downpour, Maxwell stood up and said, 'Toler, you big dummy! No, wait a minute --- I'm the dummy! Stan, give me your shoe!'
In a spirit of cooperation --- and fear --- I took off my shoe and handed it to him. And why not? He had a three-wood and two golf shoes in that pine tree. Taking careful aim, he threw my shoe at the club. Up it went, approximately eighteen feet in the air, and missed everything. Feeling more confident, I picked up my shoe and tossed it at the club. It missed the club, but as it fell downward, it knocked one of John's shoes loose. In the process, however, my shoe got stuck in the tree. John immediately grabbed his shoe that had fallen to the ground and clutched it defensively. Now neither of us had a complete pair of shoes, and still the golf club was stuck in the tree.
By this time, several other golfers had passed the sixth tee,
observing this Laurel and Hardy comedy routine. Remarkably,
most did not speak or offer to help us. (Can you blame them?)
When every effort had failed in retrieving the golf club, my esteemed friend finally climbed the huge pine tree and personally retrieved the club and our shoes. At that point, it began to thunder,
and the rain was coming down even harder. The only thing left to do was quit for the day and go to the clubhouse for hot chocolate.
Feeling embarrassed and helpless, we drove rapidly across the course to the clubhouse. As John opened the door, the room became silent. And that's when paranoia instantly gripped us. Sure enough,
the other golfers had told on us! As we stood in the doorway, laughter erupted like you've never heard.
We shut the door, turned right around, and went straight home.
And believe me, it was a long time before we played golf there again.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted April 24, 2012

    Its pretty gay dont read it

    Nuff said

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