Dear Jim:
I want to report a Murder!
I’m telling you about
it now because I know my team will try to make it look like an accident. I am
assuming that there won’t be an out and out strangulation or a Wedge buried in
the back of my head. A loose driver head flying off the shaft or an errant golf
cart running me over several times is the most likely course of action. I
wouldn’t normally care because, and I quote a friend, “I’m not afraid of death,
I just don’t want to be around when it happens.” I want you to know this now as
my insurance policy pays triple if I am
killed with friends in a social environment. An accident is only a double and I
know the kids will like the extra money. The death will occur about 3.30pm
Friday after several holes of the Centennial Tournament.
This may sound extreme but take me seriously. Yesterday I
went out to practice. I arrived at the Lob Wedge area and hit balls with a
competitor/friend for what seemed like an eternity. I couldn’t stand it anymore
and so I left him there, mindlessly hitting shot after shot.
I went to the range and succeeded in getting all my shots to
have the same degree of slice regardless of whether or not they are Woods,
Irons or Wedges.
I then went to the putting green and spent so much time with
my head over the ball that there was no
blood left in the rest of my body.
This was followed by a drink, shower and and a casual stroll
to the parking lot. I then saw my
competitor/friend was just coming in from the Lob Wedge practice area. How am I
going to compete with that!
Looking around I saw
many people who had been hitting balls when I arrived and were still in the
same spot doing the same thing as I drove out the driveway. To top it all off I
got a phone call from a team member who was hitting when I began my practice
session at 3pm . He had just returned home and it was dark. How do they do it?
After 10 minutes of hitting balls I start to hallucinate.
The final and fatal flaw in my game is that I can’t seem to
sink a 4 foot putt. I hit them left, right and never center. A blind man
pointed in the general direction of the hole would sink 5-10 putts out of 50
tries. I sank none! I hit them hard, soft, with follow through, punched, sliced
and with one eye, both eyes and no eyes waiting to hear the ball in the cup.
This is bad. I will have to take a gimmie on any putt under 10 feet and I don’t
think the people we are betting with will like that.
I have been withdrawing the maximum cash allowed from my ATM
machine every morning for some time now to get a bankroll to pay off our debts
after the competition. I would have asked a teller for the full amount but she probably would have reported
me for suspicious activity or money laundering. The last time I asked for this
much cash she slipped me a note asking if my family was being held hostage.
So with all this in mind you can see how my team mates will
probably be suffering from P. T.S.D by the 7th or 8th
hole on Friday. As you know this happens when one witnesses horrible and
unspeakable events and often results in violent behavior.
They know they won’t get punished and with the evidence of
my playing presented to the judge they probably won’t even have to attend
court.
So there you have it. I am doomed.
The Centennial tournament , my last, begins in three days. I
have put your name on some of my old trophies that you admired so much. You can
have my name scratched off or put a plaque with your name on it. Enjoy. It has
been nice knowing you.
Bill Meder
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