The priest replies, “What is it that brings you here?”
“Well father, I used the F-word over the weekend.”
“Oh is that all? Say five Hail Mary’s and may the Lord be with you.”
The man replies, “but I really need to talk about it.”
“Let’s have it then,” the priest says as he leans back on the hard wooden bench.
“You see Father, I was playing golf this weekend and on the first tee, I was lining up my drive and proceeded to hit a horrendous slice into the trees.”
“I play golf myself and I understand why you used the F-word at that point” the Father said.
“No, not yet. As luck would have it, I found my ball and had a clear shot to the green from a nice lie; when all of a sudden, a squirrel scampered out of some bushes, picked up my ball by its teeth and darted up a tree.”
“That must have been when you cursed?”
“No, because just as the squirrel had climbed to the top of the tree, a bird swooped out of the skies and grabbed the squirrel with its talons. The bird flew out the trees and back out over the green. Then, the squirrel dropped my ball from its mouth landing 5 inches from the cup!”
“And that’s when you cursed aloud,” the priest said assuredly.
The exasperated Priest shouted, “Don’t tell me you missed the fucking putt!?”