Wolfe’s Woofer: Rich Old Man

Sunday, March 30th, 2014

Dennis-Wolfe-Wolfes-Woofers“Why don’t we meet on the deck at the Holiday at 10:30?” Charlie asked, when I called him..
When I got to the Holiday Charlie was well established with two beers and a glass of ice.
“I hope you don’t mind,” he said, “but I got a call from Robby Peterson. He’s in town and I told him to come here and meet us for a drink.”
“I don’t mind,” I said. “Does Robby still run that golf course and country club that he owns up in North Carolina?”
“No. He sold it for about twenty million dollars and retired,” Charlie told me. “Remember, Robby is older than us. He’s seventy one years old now.”
Just then, a stunning blonde wearing a bikini walked across the deck. She had legs that went all the way up to where they were supposed to go and all the right stuff to make that bathing suit look good on a twenty-five year old female.
“My sight’s not good,” Charlie said, “but I sure saw that.”
Our friend Robby came up on the deck and took a seat at the table. Before we even had a chance to talk the blonde in the bikini came out of the hotel lobby. She came up behind Robby’s chair and put her arms around his neck.
“Robby, honey, I’m going to that little dress shop across the street,” she said, giving him a kiss as she left.
“Oh, my God,” I said. “Where did you get a trophy girlfriend like that?”
“Girlfriend?” Robby said. “That’s my new wife, not my girlfriend. And I got her by lying about my age.”
“What did you do?” Charlie asked. “Tell her you were fifty?”
“Hell, no,” Robby said. “I told her I was ninety.”

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