A man walks into a confessional and says, “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” The priest asks, “Would you like to confess?” The man nods. “I used the ‘F-word’ over the weekend.” The priest sighs. “Say three Hail Marys and watch your language.”

The man insists, “Let me explain.” He continues, “I played golf on Sunday instead of going to church.” The priest asks, “And that’s why you swore?” The man shakes his head. “No, I duck-hooked my first shot into the trees.” The priest nods. “Ah, that’s when you swore.”

“No,” the man says. “I got lucky—my ball bounced back, but before I could hit it, a squirrel grabbed it and ran up a tree.” The priest asks, “So that’s when you swore?” “No, because then an eagle snatched the squirrel and flew away with my ball.”

The priest, now leaning in, asks, “So that’s when you swore?” “No, because as the eagle flew over the green, the squirrel dropped my ball five inches from the hole.” The priest gasps, then shouts, “Don’t tell me you missed the f**ing putt!”