"What a day!" I said, dropping my golf bag to the floor.
"Bad game?" asked my wife.
"Oh honey, it was awful. Glen - you know Glen: Trish's husband? -
he had a heart attack and dropped dead on the second hole."
"My God," gasped my wife, "That's terrible! Oh, you poor thing."
"You're telling me! It was awful. For the whole day it was:
'Hit the ball, drag Glen. Hit the ball, drag Glen..."