Tales from Margaritaville : fictional facts and factual fictions by Unknown

Author:Unknown
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-03-21T00:00:00+00:00

He was in great spirits and had spent an hour at the practice range polishing the seven-iron shot that was going to win him a bundle of money.

He parked his yellow golf cart by the ball washer on the sixteenth tee and watched in amazement as Willett and Balls approached.

“Hey, Balls, you look like you been shot at and missed, and shit at and hit, but a bet is a bet.”

“You’ve got the honors. Lard Ass.” Balls said calmly.

“Well, thank you.” Lard Ass wasn’t quite sure what to make of Balls and his appearance, but he sensed he should leave well enough alone and concentrate on his shot. He knelt down to tee up.

“Bet’s doubled,” Balls said.

Lard Ass nearly toppled over but came up to look closely at Balls.

“Are you still drunk?” he snorted.

“That may be. … Do we have a bet or not? Ten grand. Winner take all.”

“You’ve got a bet, asshole,” Lard Ass growled. He looked down the fairway at the flag collapsed against the pin. This was just a straight shot. He got ready to swing.

Good shots are heard before they are seen, and Lard Ass’s shot certainly sounded impressive. The ball gained altitude quickly and then began to fall as if it had been dropped out of the sky. It landed four feet from the pin and gingerly rolled another two feet toward the hole. Lard Ass didn’t say a word. He just gestured to Balls to take the tee.

Willett handed Balls the funky old golf ball from the glowing cart. Balls teed it up, looked down the fairway, and lined himself up with the water fountain way to the left of the green. Lard Ass watched in silence as Balls got ready to hit.

Willett, staring off into the woods at the left, saw a pair of red eyes glowing through the morning mist. “Oh, my God,” he gasped.

Balls looked down at the old ball, and without hesitating or thinking, he swung. The ball went out over the water to the right like it always did, and Louis started to cheer.

Suddenly the flag on the pinstick snapped straight out to the left, and a huge gust of wind blew the ball back toward the green. It hit dead in the center of the hole, rattling the pin as it settled.

Lard Ass fainted on the spot, and Willett just stood there. His mouth dropped open, and then he began to howl.

“Damn. Willett, you act like you’ve never seen a hole in one before.” Balls said calmly. Then he started screaming with joy. The two men hugged each other and rolled around on the ground just like they did years before in the muddy end zone after beating Bundy High.

Balls rolled over on top of Lard Ass and stuck his hand into a polyester pocket and pulled out a roll of hundred-dollar bills. He counted five thousand dollars and handed it to Willett. “Thanks for the tip. I’m gonna sit here and wait for Lard Ass to wake up and write me a check for the rest.

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