"How was your golf game, dear?" asked Jack's wife Tracy.
"Well, I was hitting pretty well, but
my eyesight's gotten so bad I couldn't see where the ball went."
"But you're seventy-five years old,
Jack!" admonished his wife, "Why don't you take my brother Scott
along?"
"But he's eighty-five and doesn't even
play golf anymore," protested Jack.
"But he's got perfect eyesight. He
could watch your ball," Tracy pointed out.
The next day Jack teed off with Scott
looking on. Jack swung, and the ball disappeared down the middle of the
fairway. "Do you see it?" asked Jack.
"Yup," Scott answered.
"Well, where is it?" yelled Jack,
peering off into the distance.
"I forget."
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