Driving Range

Just got back from the driving range. Here’s how it went –

Far on the horizon, loomed trees. Beyond the trees, was a big brick building. I whipped out the six iron. Smash after smash. A couple folks stood behind, gandering in awe at my magnificence. Ten more shots. Killing it. Pull out the three wood.

Wham, bam, thank you mamn. Fucking crushing it. A small crowd ensembles behind me, oohing and ahhing with each of my strokes. Grumpy old man stands behind me. Challenges me to a ‘drive off’.

“Let’s have at it then, old man,” I respond back, intensely.

He rips the driver from my bag, bends it with his wrinkly hand, then smirks as he approaches and prepares to launch. “Here’s how we did it in my day,” he says, in a voice similar to the Grandpa from Hey Arnold.

Whack. The ball dribbles out fifty yards.

I gulp, wipe sweat from my forehead. Old grandpa laughs obnoxiously, then hands me the driver. “Guess I’m not as good as I used to be,” he says.

“Shut it,” I said, shoving him to the ground.

I lined up my golf ball, then gulped again. “Okay McWatty nine, let’s do this thing.”

I take a deep breath, load up my swing, then…. BAM!

Ball goes screaming, out past the wilderness thousands of feet away, over the brick building, disappears off on the horizon. Plane falls from the sky, window shattered, crashes. Huge explosion.

Everyone around me cheers. I do a cool flip with my gold club, then give them a twirl and finish at a kneeling bow. Everyone congratulates me. Several folk ask me for autographs. I shyly respond yes, in a humble manner, but then request fifty bucks per autograph.

I leave the golf course with fifty million dollars cash. Yeah, I’d say it was a pretty damn good day…


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