Every Saturday they will get out and play a round, have lunch, then rejoin their wives. Same routine for years.

One saturday, this man's wife noticed that her husband didn't return at the normal time. Soon, he was missing lunch. Several hours passed and she still hadn't heard anything. By the time he walked through the door, hair mussed, clothes bedraggled, and face flush, she had had enough and lit into him.

"Where have you been?!?! Do you have any idea how worried I was?"

"Honey I'm sorry I'm late, but it was the worst day of my life." he responded. "Everything was going along normally, but my best friend collapsed and died on the first tee."

"Oh, dear," she exclaimed, "I'm so sorry, I had no idea."

"You're telling me . . . from then on it was: hit the ball, drag my friend . . . "