Fred and Harry are on the golf course.

On the 16th hole, Fred hits his ball into the woods.

Harry laughs and pokes fun, but then somehow manages to hit his ball into the woods, just a few yards beyond.

Fred looks for it for a long time, getting angrier every minute. Finally, in a patch of pretty yellow buttercups, he finds his ball. Instead of just continuing the game, he takes his club and thrashs every single buttercup in that patch.

Suddenly, in a flash and puff of smoke, a little old woman appears. She says, “I’m Mother Nature! Do you know how long it took me to make those buttercups? Just for that, you won’t have any butter for your popcorn the rest of your life… better still – you won’t have any butter for your toast for the rest of your life… as a matter of fact, you won’t have any butter for anything the rest of your life!”

Then poof – and she was gone.

After Fred got a hold of himself, he hollered for his friend, “Harry!… Harry!… where are you?”

Harry yells, “I’m over here, in the pussy willows.”

Fred screams back… “Don’t swing! For God’s sake! Don’t swing!”

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