Joke:
Why do golfers hate cake?
Because they might get a slice!
Story: The Birthday Slice
It was a beautiful Saturday morning at Green Valley Golf Course, and the members were gearing up for the annual Birthday Scramble tournament. The event was special because it celebrated every golfer whose birthday fell within the month, and this year, the honor belonged to Charlie.
Charlie, a cheerful man with a booming laugh, was well-loved at the club. But while he was known for his great attitude, he was also infamous for his terrible slice. Every drive off the tee seemed to veer hard to the right, landing in trees, bunkers, or sometimes even on other fairways.
“Charlie,” his best friend Mike said, patting him on the back as they arrived at the first tee, “this is your big day. No slices, okay? Just straight down the middle.”
Charlie grinned. “Don’t worry, Mike. I’ve been practicing all week. Today’s the day I keep it on the fairway!”
Mike raised an eyebrow. “You sure? I brought a hard hat just in case.”
The tournament kicked off with the usual excitement. Teams of four took to the course, and Charlie’s group included Mike, Susan (a steady-handed putter), and Tom (a long-hitter known for his booming drives). Charlie felt confident as he teed up his ball on the first hole.
He took a deep breath, visualized the ball sailing straight, and swung with all his might. CRACK! The ball flew high… and then immediately veered right, disappearing into a grove of trees.
“Fore!” Charlie yelled as the group groaned.
“Classic Charlie,” Susan teased as they headed off to find his ball. “You’ve got to fix that slice!”
“I’m working on it!” Charlie replied, laughing but secretly frustrated.
By the fifth hole, the pattern was clear. Every drive Charlie hit sliced badly to the right. His team tried to help—offering tips, adjusting his stance, and even jokingly suggesting he just aim left—but nothing worked.
Finally, on the ninth hole, Tom pulled Charlie aside. “Listen,” he said, “you’re overthinking it. Just relax and focus on hitting the ball clean. Forget about your slice for one hole, okay?”
Charlie nodded. “Alright, one clean hit. I can do this.”
As they approached the green on the ninth, the group noticed a commotion near the clubhouse. Staff members were setting up a giant birthday cake for Charlie—a towering masterpiece decorated with fondant golf balls and little green flags.
“Oh boy,” Susan said. “That’s going to be a lot of cake.”
“Hope Charlie doesn’t slice it like his drives,” Mike joked, earning a round of laughter.
Charlie heard them and shook his head with a smile. “Just you wait. I’ll show you all on the back nine!”
The back nine started out much the same, with Charlie’s slice still haunting him. But on the sixteenth hole, something miraculous happened. Charlie lined up his shot, swung confidently, and hit the ball dead straight down the fairway.
The team froze in shock.
“Did… did that actually happen?” Mike asked.
“It’s a miracle!” Susan exclaimed.
Charlie puffed out his chest. “See? Told you I could fix it!”
By the time they reached the eighteenth hole, Charlie’s confidence was soaring. The clubhouse was in sight, and the birthday cake gleamed under the sunlight, waiting for the post-round celebration. Charlie’s team was in a good position to win, and all they needed was a decent drive from him to secure the victory.
Charlie stepped up to the tee, gripped his driver, and swung with everything he had. CRACK! The ball sailed beautifully… for a moment. Then, as if cursed, it sliced hard to the right. This time, it didn’t land in the trees. Instead, it arced directly toward the clubhouse patio—straight for the birthday cake.
“Fore!” the group shouted in unison, but it was too late. The ball smacked into the side of the cake, sending frosting and fondant flying. The patio erupted in gasps and laughter as staff scrambled to salvage what they could.
Charlie dropped his club and buried his face in his hands. “I can’t believe it. I sliced my own birthday cake.”
The group burst out laughing, and even Charlie couldn’t help but join in. “Well,” Mike said, clapping him on the back, “at least now we know why you hate cake!”
The day ended with plenty of laughs and a slightly lopsided birthday cake. Despite the mishap, Charlie’s team won the tournament, and his epic slice became the stuff of legend at the club.
From that day on, whenever Charlie teed up, someone would inevitably joke, “Just don’t aim for the cake this time!” And Charlie would reply, “Don’t worry—my slice is reserved for special occasions.”
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