good from stinky

I was playing golf the other day. It was a cool day but I managed to maintain a more than regular amount of sweatiness and overall swampiness that made me feel extraordinarily uncomfortable. On hole 2 for instance, as I bent over to pick the ball out of the hole; a birdie by the way, I caught a whiff of my swampy ass and almost passed out myself. Now I had to make a decision. Hole 3 is sort of close to the john. But if I left after making a good birdie it might disrupt any kind of momentum that could be on the verge of exploding. Was it worth it? You bet it was. I hauled ass to the john where there was no toilet paper. Now I am just pissed! So I pull up and walk calmly in the dining area to grab a few napkins. I walk back and both stalls are taken. Little do these assholes know they will be using their hands. I wait patiently for the self realized bad news. Their discontent was obvious as their interpretations of the English language showed no barriers. Well, I started laughing my ass off out in the hall just outside the tiny bathroom and proceeded to shit my shorts a little. You know, just a little dab l do ya type of thing. Laughing still while holding back the oncoming barrage, I walk slowly to number ten tee waiting for these two jokers to leave for the diner. They come out and I go in quickly to clean myself up. My cell rings and the bastards I am playing with are on 3 green. I quickly hop in the cart and head for the tee. I get there and realize I forgot my glove on the counter in the diner. I head back for it and the phone rings again. They just finished 3 and were on 4 tee. I told them what I was doing and asked them to chill out. Well, they told me to go screw myself. I grab a pepsi, a Grandma's cookie, my glove, and I head for 3 tee. I rip one down the middle and birdied the hole. I caught them in 4 fairway. They each made 5 on the par 5. I made a 4. The moral is that even in the poopiest of pants; even when times are particularly stinky and unfresh, there can be justice and harmony.