ROB LEARY



HAPPY GILMORE





Happy Gilmore: What? I didn't *break* it, I was just testing its durability, and then I *placed* it in the woods because it's made of wood and I just thought he should be with his family.







You little son of a bitch ball! Why you don't you just go HOME? That's your HOME! Are you too good for your HOME? ANSWER ME! SUCK MY WHITE ASS, BALL!

And here comes the patterned club throw





I'm stupid. You're smart. I was wrong. You were right. You're the best. I'm the worst. You're very good-looking. I'm not attractive.







Give me the stupid club.







I'd love to punch that guy in the face right now. But I can't, you know, because I'd get in trouble.



Forget all the pastel shirts and seersucker shorts because there is a lot of fury in that medium sized frame.



"Hey Rob, you have the tee"


(immediately after his swing) "Mother Fucking, Cock Sucking, Stupid Ass, Son of a Bitch. God Damn Stupid Game, FUCK ME, I FUCKING Suck, this Game can Suck my Balls, FUCK, we lost, I blew it, I'm the WORST"



"Chill out, it's the practice range"

The amount of times this guy has given up on golf is to many to count. You need a PHD in psychology to be his playing patner and have to have your head on a swivel for flying rakes and clubs.
Maybe the pace of golf is what gets him so mad. Maybe his body just needs to be drinking, dancing and singing a song, the same song,again and again and again, all the time.

Either way you can be sure he'll drink 20 times his weight in booze, sleep 5 hours the entire trip and eat next to nothing.