Yesterday I played with Spiros and Ken at the Bay of Quinte in Belleville. Spiros drop-kicked his first tee shot into a ditch about sixty yards in front of the tee box. I told Spiros he was welcome to take a breakfast ball, which he readily accepted.
Ken said, "It shouldn't be called a breakfast ball. It should be a hair ball." He then did his best imitation of a cat retching up a hair ball. I'm not sure Spiros appreciated the connotation, but he took his hair ball and made bogey.
When we were marking the scores at the second tee box, Spiros said, "I made five."
I replied, "Five, with a hair ball."
Spiros just grimaced. No more breakfast balls for us. From now on it's a hair ball.