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"I guess I'll just have to play it safe and chip it onto the fairway," said the man.
"No wait," said his wife. "You can hit the ball through the barn."
The man decided to give it a try. But he sliced the ball, which ricocheted off the barn and struck his wife in the head, killing her instantly. The man was distraught and wallowed in his misery for many weeks, depriving himself of golf the whole time.
Eventually he relaized that he must face his demons and headed out to the very same golf course to play. Once again he found himself at the 12th hole and once again he hit a slice right behind the very same barn. As he was preparing to hit out safely to the fairway one of the other players in his foursome asked if he wanted to try and hit it through the barn.
"Oh no," replied the man, horrified. "I tried that last time."
"What happened?"
"I shot an 8!"
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Then it stumbled again. He said, "That's twice."
Then later it stumbled a third time. This time, he didn't say anything, just pulled out a shotgun and shot the horse dead.
His wife cried out and started to yell at him. The farmer turned to her and said, "That's once."
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I started talking to the man and I learned he owned the seat I was in. He said, "My wife use to love to come to these games until she died."
"Why didn't you give this seat away to a friend?" I asked.
He replied, "Because they are all at her funeral."
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