I’ve mentioned that I’m very bad at golf. Once, I really sliced a tee off. The ball sailed into a farmers property, into the chicken coop. He was angry, so I went through the trees to talk to him. He said, “You killed my best hen!!” I said,”I’m so sorry! Can I replace her?” He said, “I don’t know, how many eggs can you lay in a day?”
I guess it was a valid, albeit a sarcastic response from the guy. After all, I just killed his prized chicken. I ended up paying the guy a hundred bucks and signed an agreement never to golf again. Not just at that course, but anywhere ever again. Otherwise he would get my first born male child.
That would have been really weird because he’s about to turn 38 years old, and has a wife and five kids. Legally, I don’t think he would have to go, but if so, it would be very awkward telling him and his wife. The whole thing would have wound up in litigation for years, draining everyone’s money. Much better idea to just quit golfing.
So, I did. I needed to replace golf with another recreation, so I started sky diving. Once I got the hang of it, it was really fun. I did that without incident for two and a half years and then it happened. Something went wrong with the controls on my parachute and I crashed into the same exact chicken coop, this time taking out all of the chickens! The farmer was really ticked off this time, so I shot him. I didn’t have another son and I certainly wasn’t willing to spend the rest of my life in a chicken coop. I spend it in prison now, and it is a little scary but at least no one expects me to lay eggs.