Golfing....a holy tragedy.

For the old golfers among you, especially thse in Spain, here's a little story....

A nun is sitting with her Mother Superior chatting. "I used some horrible language this week and feel absolutely terrible about it," the nun said.
"When did you use this awful language?" the Mother Superior asks.
Answered the nun: "Well, I was golfing and hit this fabulous drive that looked like it was going to go 280 yards, but it struck a phone line hanging over the fairway and fell straight down to the ground only 100 yards from the tee."
"Is that when you cursed?"
"No, Mother Superior," says the nun. "After that, a squirrel ran out of the bushes and grabbed my ball in its mouth and began to run away."
"Is that when you swore?" asks the Mother Superior.
"Well, no," says the nun.

"As the squirrel was running, an eagle came down out of the sky, grabbed the squirrel in his talons and began to fly away!"
"Is that when you swore?" asks the amazed elder nun.
"No, not yet. As the eagle carried the squirrel away in its claws, it flew near the green and the squirrel dropped my ball."
"Did you swear then?" asked Mother Superior, becoming impatient.
"No, because the ball fell on a big rock, bounced over the sand trap, rolled onto the green, and stopped about six inches from the hole."
The two nuns were silent for a moment.
Then Mother Superior sighed and said, "You missed the &!#&%#%! putt, didn't you?"