The Professional Killer

Wow the last few days have been a whirlwind. Started a new project and have been submerged in the research. Think I have most of the pieces together but we'll have to see.

The Professional Killer

One morning, a man approached the first tee, only to find another guy approaching from the other side. They began talking and decided to play 9 holes together.

After teeing off, they sat off down the fairway, continuing their chat.

"What do you do?" the first man asked.

"I'm a salesman. What about you?"

"I'm a Professional Killer for the mob," replied the second man.

The Professional Killer noticed that the 1st guy started getting a little nervous and continued. "Yeah. I'm the highest paid guy in the business. I'm the best." He stopped, sat down his bag of clubs, and pulled out a fancy, high powered rifle that was loaded with all types of scopes and sights. He than asked the man where he lived.

Still nervous the man replied, "In a sub-urban just west of this golf course."

The Professional Killer placed the gun against his shoulder, faced west, peered into a scope and asked "What color roof ya' got?"

"Gray."

Then he asked "What color siding?"

"Yellow."

"You got a silver Toyota?"

"Yeah," replied the first man who was now completely amazed by the accuracy of the Killer's equipment. "That's my wife's car."

"That your red pickup next to it?"

Looking baffled the man asked if he could look through the scope.

Looking through the sights, he said "Hell. That's my buddy Jeff's truck. What the hell is he doing there if I'm..?"

The Professional Killer looked through the scope once more. "Your wife a blond?"

"Yeah."

"Your buddy got black hair?"

"Yeah!"

"Well, I don't know how to tell you, but I think you've got a problem. They're going at it like a couple of teenagers in there." said the Killer.

"Problem??! THEY'VE got the problem! I want you to shoot both of them! Right now!"

The Killer paused and said, "Sure. But it'll cost you. Like I said, I'm the best. I get paid $5,000 per shot."

"I don't care! Just do it! I want you to shoot her right in the head, then shoot him right in the groin!"

The Professional Killer agreed, turned, and took his firing position. He carefully stared into the sights, taking careful aim. He then said, "You know what buddy. This is your lucky day. I think I can save you $5,000!"

I'm being lazy today with my golf joke blog, so short intro, long joke!

Lifelong Headaches

Fred was moderately successful golfer, but as he got older he was increasingly hampered by incredible headaches. His golf, personal hygiene and love life started to suffer, he managed to push on, but when his game turned really sour he sought medical help. After being referred from one specialist to another, he finally came across a doctor who solved the problem.

"The good news is I can cure your headaches, the bad news is that it will require castration. You have a very rare condition which causes your testicles to press up against the base of your spine.

The pressure creates one hell of a headache. The only way to relieve the pressure and allow your swing to work again is to remove the testicles."

Fred was shocked and depressed. He wondered if he has anything to live for, but then figured at least he could play reasonable golf again.

He decided he had no choice but to go under the knife. When he left the hospital, his mind was clear, but he felt like he was missing an important part of himself. As he walked down the street, he realised that he felt like a different person. He could make a new beginning, swing free, and live a new life.

He went to the club for a drink and as he walked past the Pro shop thought, "That's what I need: A new outfit."

He entered the shop and told the salesman, "I'd like some new golf slacks." The salesman eyed him briefly and said, "Let's see . . . size 44 long." Fred laughed, "That's right, how did you know?" "It's my job." Fred tried on the slacks, they fitted perfectly.

As Fred admired himself in the mirror, the salesman asked, "How about a new shirt, I've got some great new Nicklaus stock."

Fred thought for a moment and then said, "Sure . ." . The salesman eyed Fred and said,"Let's see. . . 34 sleeve and . . . 16 and and half neck" Fred was surprised, "That's right, how did you know?" "It's my job."

Fred tried on the shirt, and it fitted perfectly. As Fred adjusted the collar in the mirror, the salesman asked, "How about new shoes, we just got new stock with soft spikes" Fred was on a roll and agreed. The salesman said, "Let's see. . .9 and a half. . . wide."

Fred was astonished, "That's right, how did you know?" "It's my job." Fred tried on the shoes and they fit perfectly. Fred walked comfortably around the shop and the salesman asked, "How about a new hat?" Without hesitating, Fred said, "Sure . ."

The salesman eyed Fred's head and said, "Let's see . . . 7 5/8." Fred was really impressed, "That's right, how did you know?" "It's my job."

The hat fit perfectly. Fred was feeling great, when the salesman asked, "How about some new underwear, got some great new imported stock." Fred thought for a second and said, "Sure . . " The salesman stepped back, eyed Fred's waist and said, "Let's see. . size 36."

Fred laughed, "No, I've worn size 34 since I was 18 years old." The salesman shook his head, "You can't wear a size 34 - every time you swing it would press your testicles up against the base of your spine and give you one hell of a headache."


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