"Do you expect me to believe that you were playing golf from seven in the morning until seven at night?" the wife asked her husband. "You should have been home by three."
"Now, let me explain, Carol," Harry replied. "I got up at dawn and picked Ted up at six A.M., but on the way to the course, I had a flat tire. I didn't have a spare, so I had to walk a couple of miles to the service station. By the time I got back to the car, it was after nine. Then we ran out of gas, and that cost an hour. We didn't tee off 'till eleven."
"You still should have been home by three."
"I'm not finished," Harry explained. "Everything was fine for the first two holes, but then Fred had a heart attack. I ran to the clubhouse to find a doctor but had no luck. By the time I got back, Fred was dead. So for the next sixteen holes, it was hit the ball, drag Fred, hit the ball, drag Fred. . . ."