Golfgrín á laugardegi 2018 (13)

A golfer sliced a ball into a field of chickens, striking one of the hens and killing it instantly. He was understandably upset, and sought out the farmer. “I’m sorry,” he said, “my terrible tee-shot hit one of your hens and killed it. Can I replace the hen?”

“I don’t know about that,” replied the farmer, mulling it over. “How many eggs a day do you lay?”

Eggs..?

Golf balls are like eggs.

They’re white.

Sold by the dozen.

And a week later you have to buy some more.