I Found the Pond

 In MumbleShed, Skulls

It was a beautiful spring day. There was hardly a breath of wind in the air. I stood on the par four ninth tee two under and odds on to finish my first nine holes under par in competition. Fifteen yards in front of the tee was a small pond. It didn’t really come into play. Not normally anyhow. I felt good as I visualized my drive, seeing it land and come to rest in the middle of the fairway leaving me a short iron into the green. I took my club back and then it came, a raucous roar from the first green, which was hidden from view behind a hedge. I flinched, too late to pull out of my shot and skulled it straight into the water. Some one’s joy at holing a putt became my anger. Fuming I took my relief and laid up short of the green. Then Karma won out. My pitch landed eight feet from the hole, ran up to the cup and dropped in. All was forgotten, all was forgiven. Nothing was ever said to that selfish idiot who had no regard for others on the course. I didn’t care.

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