Putt, Drag, Putt, Drag, Putt.....

Fred got home from his Sunday round of golf later than normal and very tired. "Bad day at the course?" his wife asked.

"Everything was going fine," he said. "Then Harry had a heart attack and died on the 10th tee."

"Oh, that's awful!"

"You're not kidding. For the whole back nine it was hit the ball, drag Harry, hit the ball, drag Harry..."

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