Harry is a golf fanatic. One night he was irate and ranting when he arrived home from the club. His wife said, “I’m leaving you, Harry. You promised me that you’d be back before noon and here it is almost nine PM. It can’t possibly take that long to play 18 holes of golf.” “Now wait” said Harry. “Let me explain. I know I promised, but I couldn’t help it. I got up at the crack of dawn and picked up Fred at 6 AM. On the way to the golf course we had a flat tire, and when I started to change it I discovered that the spare was flat, too. So I had to walk three miles to the gas station to get the tire fixed, roll it 3 miles back, then put it on the car. After that, we got back into the car, drove a quarter mile, and ran out of gas. I had to trudge back to the gas station and back again. Finally, we got to the course and started to play. Everything was fine for the first 2 holes; on the third tee Fred has a stroke. I ran back to the clubhouse for a doctor. By the time we got back to him, Fred was dead. So, for the next 16 holes it was hit the ball, then drag Fred; hit the ball, then drag Fred….