You know what’s crazy? I’ll tell you what’s crazy.
Excuses.
When it comes to excuses, there are some old stand byes.
Like: the check is in the mail. No one told me. You can’t prove that’s my baby.
But the all time greatest excuse – ever is:
My dog ate it.
We’ve all said it or we know someone who has.
My dog ate my homework, my dog ate the bumper of our car, my dog ate a half gallon bottle of captain morgans rum.
It doesn’t matter what the dog ate, because what ever he ate is gone. It is destroyed. It is wrecked, sacked, lost, forgotten.
It’s the universal excuse that works in every situation.
Well, just in time for the Masters, I submit for your approval, the Amen Corner version of the the dog ate it.
Ate what?
Sit back and put on your green jacket people, here it comes.
DATELINE: SEATTLE
It’s here that a Seattle man dreamed to go to the Masters.
The Seattle man purchased four tickets. He was all set to go, to watch Tiger, Phil and Rory.
Looking at his Masters tickets, the man undoubtedly felt like Charlie unwrapping that chocolate bar and finding that golden ticket.
The man caressed those tickets. He made love to his girlfriend on the tickets. He even posted the tickets on his Facebook page.
Then the double bogey of all double bogeys.
His dog ate his tickets.
That’s right, His dog ate his tickets – to the Masters.
Fore!
The man went for the mulligan, not daring to let the dream die. He was going to Augusta, by hook or by crook. He was not going to be denied visiting the course unlike any other.
But how? How do you get on the course that hates black people and women without a ticket?
Augusta is more sacrosanct than the pope’s hat. It’s a throwback to a decade where civil rights came at the business end of a hose.
So the man comes up with an idea.
Retrieve the four partially digested tickets.
Sadly there are only 2 ways to retrieve tickets from inside a dog.
Option 1: Wait for the dog to squat in the yard and expel the soiled tickets into the grass, which quite honestly is a terrible option. It takes time and looking for tickets in dog feces is fun like deodorizing with a skunk.
Option 2. Induce vomiting. Which in a dog is a rather unattractive and barbaric act. Have you ever watched a dog regurgitate? it shakes and convulses and hacks. It is a horrible sight to behold, like Larry King preparing to bathe.
But the man, like the prehistoric dog owner he is, forces his dog to puke up the goods.
I’m not sure how he got the dog to puke, the article didn’t say. He may have sprinkled the dog’s milkbone with paprika. Maybe he shoved his arm down the dog’s yapper and tickled the back of its throat.
It’s unknown how he did it but he did it.
According to local reports, he described the recovered tickets as a “gooey glob”
With gooey glob in hand, the man dried out the quasi digested, vomit paper, then proceeded to glue it all back together.
Way to go McGiver. Given enough time and enough glue, he might have manufactured a Cadillac.
According to the man he recovered about 70 percent of the passes from his dog’s digestive track.
70 percent of Masters tickets is like 100-percent of a golf tournament in Hoboken.
The man took pictures of his work, explained the situation to golf officials and told the Augusta National Golf Club that – are you ready for it :
“His dog at his Masters Tickets.”
That is one kick ass functional excuse don’t you think?
And what didn’t work in high school worked like a charm at the Masters.
The good news; the venerable institution that won’t allow women or disclose its member list, reprinted his passes and said they’d be waiting on him when he arrives at Augusta.
My dog should have eaten this edition of that is crazy, you know why?
Because this was crazy.