Blame it on the alcohol. Sorry I stole your golf cart.
Thought I’d throw this little gem in here. I woke up with this key. Where it came from and who’s cart it belongs to (maybe a guy named Murphy?), I don’t know. Why is it we can safely maneuver and dock multimillion dollar yachts, but seem to brainfart when it comes to a two thousand dollar golf cart? Two words. Mount Gay.
I’m not going to lie here, but I have a feeling more rum bum infested antics will happen in the next six days with the boss off the boat. Cat is away, mice will play!