A father, son and grandson go out to the country club for

A father, son and grandson go out to the country club for their weekly round of golf. Just as they reach the first tee, a beautiful young blonde woman carrying her bag of clubs approaches them. She explains that the guy who brought her to the club for a round of golf had an emergency, which called him away and asks the trio whether she can join them.


Naturally, the guys all agree. Smiling, the blonde thanks them.

“Look, fellows, I work in a topless bar as a dancer, so nothing shocks me anymore. If any of you wants to smoke cigars, have a beer, bet, swear or tell off-color stories or do anything that you normally do when playing a round together, go ahead But I enjoy playing golf. I consider myself pretty good at it, so don’t try to coach me on how to play.”

With that the guys agree to relax and invite her to drive first. All eyes were fastened on her shapely behind as she bent over during the round. Long and straight tee shots, coupled with stunning iron and short-game play, left them breathless with more than just her superior looks.

When they get to the 18th green, the blonde is 3 under par, but has a very nas ty 12-foot putt on an undulating green for a par. She turns to the three guys.

“I really want to thank you all for not acting like a bunch of chauvinists and telling me what club to use or how to play a shot, but I need this putt for a 69 and I’d really like to break 70 on this course. If any one of you can tell me how to make par on this hole, I’ll take him back to my apartment, pour some 25-year old Haig & Haig Scotch in him, fix him dinner, and then show him a good time the rest of the night.”

The yuppie son jumps at the thought. He strolls across the green, carefully eyes the line of the putt.

“Honey, aim about 6 inches to the right of the hole and hit it firm. It will get over that little hump and break right into the cup.”

The father kneels down and sights the putt using his putter as a plumb.

“Don’t listen to the kid, darlin’, you want to hit it softly, 10 inches to the right and run it left down that little hogback so it falls into the cup.”

The old gray-haired grandfather walks over to the blonde’s ball on the green, picks it up and hands it to her.

“That’s a gimme, sweetheart. Your car or mine?”