All the Biblical Golfers Yelled, “Meta-fore!!!”

The horny, biblical golfer’s drive went astray and he cried, “Fore-play!”  or was the fore-play meta-phor-ical?

The question is, how many strokes did it take him to get it in the hole?  Three, seven, twelve, one hundred-forty-four thousand?

The answer is known only to Crazy John, who is reputed to be the first and Onan-ly golfer on the Isle of Patmos to miss

the putt on all one hundred-forty-four thousand tries not to mention the first three, seven and twelve, all being very important, symbolically.

Exhausted after such an effort, he shouted to the heavens, “Come, Lord Jesus!” fell into a deep sleep for twenty

some years and awoke as an old, Dutch guy in upper-state New York with a long white beard who looked a lot like most Americans’ metaphorical

image of God that they like to take literally and talk about the old man upstairs.  He arose and Rip-ped a 300 yarder in a Wink-le, hopped in his

Van and headed straight to New York City shouting “Fore, fore, fore,” all the way home. Somewhere in the New Jersey distance, a voice was heard shouting,

“Play ball!” Giants were there, but the Saints failed to show. However, Rip and the Seven Sleepers, Christians all, were now awake and cheering in the upper deck along with the

many Muslim mono-theists from Sura Al-Kahf. It was an interfaith game.