AWESOME
SO KEVIN, MYSELF, AND THIS FOREIGN DUDE “PEET” (NOT PETE, PEET) FROM FRANCE ARE PLANNING AN EXCURSION TO STEAL GOLF BALLS FROM THIS VERY EXCLUSIVE FRENCH GOLF COURSE.
PEET’S AT HIGH SCHOOL WITH US BECAUSE FRANCE AND QUEBEC DO EXCHANGES ALL THE TIME. HOW HE GOT WEDGED INTO OUR SCHOOL I’LL NEVER KNOW BECAUSE PHILEMON WRIGHT IS PRETTY GHETTO AS FAR AS CANADIAN HIGHSCHOOLS GO.
SO ANYWAY WE WALK TO THE GOLFCOURSE AND SNEAK OVER THE GATE AND DISAPPEAR INTO THE WOODS. IT’S A BRIGHT FALL DAY AND WE’RE PRETTY MUCH HIDDEN IN THE TREES AND THERE ARE GOLF BALLS EVERYWHERE. WE’VE BROUGHT LARGE BLACK GARBAGE BAGS WITH US. WE’RE SLOWLY MAKING OUR WAY TO THE DRIVING RANGE WHICH IS WHERE THINGS GET TRICKY. YOU HAVE TO RUN OUT INTO SIGHT OF THE GOLFERS, SECURITY, ETC, AND SCOOP UP AS MANY GOLF BALLS INTO YOUR BAG AS YOU POSSIBLY CAN. THIS CAN GET KIND OF DANGEROUS BECAUSE FIRST OF ALL THE GOLFERS TRY AND HIT YOU WITH BALLS FROM 300 YARDS, AND AS SOON AS YOU’RE SPOTTED BY SECURITY THEY START CHASING YOU DOWN AND YOU ONLY HAVE ABOUT A MINUTE BEFORE YOU NEED TO BAIL.
ONCE YOU’RE BACK IN THE WOODS SECURITY/RANDOM GOLFERS USUALLY STOP GIVING CHASE, AND YOU CAN CAREFULLY PICK YOUR WAY BACK TO THE GATES. THEN THE WHOLE PLAN IS TO TAKE YOUR SPOILS DOWN TO THE HIGHWAY AND START THROWING THEM AT CARS, BIKERS, PEOPLE, ETC. IT WAS A GOOD WAY TO PASS THE LUNCH-HOUR.
ANYWAY SO WE’RE IN THE WOODS HEADING TOWARDS THE DRIVING RANGE. ‘PEET’ IS ENTERTAINING US WITH HIS FRENCH ACCENT, TELLING US ABOUT THE TIME HE COULDN’T FIND HIS SHOES, WHEN WE HEAR A SWISHING NOISE AND A GOLF BALL HITS THE TREE RIGHT IN FRONT OF KEVIN. WE STOP DEAD IN OUR TRACKS. FRENCH GOLFERS ARE NASTY PEOPLE AND A GOLF BALL CAN GIVE YOU A GODDAMNED CONCUSSION IF YOU AREN’T CAREFUL.
WE PAUSE AND HOLD OUR BREATH. IT’S UNLIKELY WE’VE BEEN SPOTTED SO QUICKLY, ESPECIALLY SINCE THE WOODS ARE SO DENSE. WE LOOK UP - ABOUT A HUNDRED YARDS UP ON THE GREEN A GOLFER IS PEERING DOWN INTO THE WOODS WITH A GIANT FROWN. WE AREN’T SURE IF HE’S LOOKING AT US, OR IF HE CAN EVEN SEE US FOR THAT MATTER. MOST LIKELY HE JUST LOST HIS BALL AND IS SEEING IF THERE’S ANY HOPE OF RECOVERING IT. SOON THE GOLFER STEPS BACK OUT ONTO THE COURSE AND DISAPPEARS. PEET GIGGLES NERVOUSLY, GRABS THE GOLF BALL, THROWS IT INTO HIS SACK, AND WE MOVE ON.
ABOUT 4 MINUTES LATER ANOTHER GOLF BALL WHIZZES THROUGH THE AIR AND NEARLY BRAINS KEVIN. WE ALL PAUSE AGAIN AND QUICKLY LOOK UP. WE’RE A LOT CLOSER FROM THE GREEN THIS TIME AND IT’S THE SAME GODDAMNED GOLFER. WE’RE PRETTY SURE HE CAN SEE US, BUT NOT POSITIVE. HE’S DOING THE SAME THING - STARING DEEPLY INTO THE FOREST AND SCOWLING LIKE HE WAS JUST POKED IN THE BEHIND WITH A NEEDLE. WE DON’T MOVE UNTIL HE GIVES A LITTLE GRUNT OF DISSATISFACTION AND DISAPPEARS BACK ON THE GREEN. THIS IS GETTING WEIRD.
PEET PICKS UP THE BALL AND COMPARES IT TO THE ONE IN HIS BAG - IT’S THE SAME BRAND. THERE’S NO MISTAKE - THIS IS THE SAME GOLFER. “WHAT THE HELL IS HE PLAYING AT?” KEVIN HISSES AT ME. I SHRUG MY SHOULDERS.
“DEES IS DANGEROUS” PEET CLAIMS AND LOOKS AT US WISELY. WE ALL STARE AT EACH OTHER FOR A SECOND AND CONTINUE.
THIS TIME BARELY 10 SECONDS PASS BEFORE ANOTHER GOLF BALL SAILS THROUGH THE AIR AND NEARLY STRIKES ME DEAD. WE STOP ABRUPTLY AND STARE UP. THE GOLFER IS LOOKING RIGHT AT THE SPOT WHERE WE’RE STANDING BUT I GET THE IMPRESSION HE STILL CAN’T SEE US. SUDDENLY IT DAWNS ON ME; HE CAN HEAR US WHEN WE’RE MOVING, BUT HE CAN’T SEE US WHEN WE’RE MOTIONLESS. I QUICKLY RELAY MY MESSAGE TO KEVIN AND PEET AND THEY AGREE.
WE CONTINUE CAREFULLY FROM THAT POINT ON. EVERY SO OFTEN A BALL COMES HURTLING IN OUR DIRECTION, SOMETIMES DANGEROUSLY CLOSE, SOMETIMES WAY OFF. EACH TIME IS FOLLOWED BY THE IRATE GOLFER STARING PASSIONATELY INTO THE FOREST.
THE TENSION IS DEFINITELY MOUNTING. I PERSONALLY AM STARTING TO FEEL LIKE A FOX IN A HUNT AND I CAN TELL KEVIN AND PEET AREN’T MUCH BETTER OFF. PEET IN PARTICULAR IS STARTING TO LOOK A LITTLE OFF-COLOR AND HAS TAKEN TO SILENTLY SHAKING HIS FIST AT THE GOLFER EACH TIME HE MAKES AN APPEARANCE.
THE GOLFER, TOO, I’VE NOTICED, IS DEFINITELY TAKING A GREATER ACCOUNT OF THE SOUNDS COMING OUT OF THE WOODS, BECAUSE HE’S LOOKING LONGER AND LONGER EACH TIME HE SENDS A GOLF BALL OUR WAY.
THE CLOUDS BREAK WHEN A GOLF BALL ACTUALLY HITS PEET IN THE LEG. UNABLE TO CONTROL HIS FRUSTRATION, PEET YELLS OUT ‘HEY, HEY YOU!!’ AT THE GOLFER. “WHAT ARE YOU DO-EENG, HUH? QUIT THAT, WHY DON’T CHU! ESTI!”
EVEN THOUGH THE GOLFER IS A WAYS OFF, I CAN SEE THAT PEET’S LITTLE CRY OF INDIGNATION HAS STARTLED THE MAN. HE’S SPEECHLESS FOR A SECOND, AND THEN, IN AN ACCENT JUST AS FRENCH AND AS THICK AS PEET’S, THE GOLFER MAKES HIS OWN VOICE HEARD: “OH YOU STUPEED KIDS! I KNEW, I KNEW DER WAS SOMEONE IN DER!! OH YOU STUPEED KIDS!”
THIS IS TOO MUCH FOR PEET. “NO, NO! YOU’RE STUPEED!! YOU’RE STUPEED!”
THE GOLFER IS GETTING REALLY WORKED UP NOW. HE’S GOT HIS CLUB RAISED HIGH THE AIR LIKE HE’S IN THE MIDDLE OF A VIGOROUS POLO GAME, AND PEET’S LITTLE RANDOM DENIGRATING CRIES ARE JUST EXCITING HIM FURTHER.
“YOU STUPEED KEEDS!! YOU TAKE ALL MY BALLS! I KNOW IT! YOU TAKE ALL MY BALLS.. YOU.. .YOU” THE GOLFER IS BREATHING HEAVILY, I CAN HERE IT FROM WHERE I’M STANDING. HE’S GOT SOMETHING ON HIS MIND AND IS EVIDENTLY PROCESSING THE BEST WAY TO SAY IT. KEVIN AND I HAVE BEEN SILENT THE ENTIRE TIME, WATCHING PEET AND THIS GOLFER BOIL UP INTO RESPECTIVE LITTLE BALLS OF RAGE. I CATCH KEVIN’S EYE FOR A SECOND AND HE GIVES ME A LITTLE GRIN. I’M RELATIVELY SURE HE’S THINKING THE EXACT THING I AM, WHICH IS THAT BOTH PARTIES ARE SCREAMING AT EACH OTHER IN ENGLISH WHEN THEY’RE BOTH SO CLEARLY FRENCH. THAT OR THE FACT THAT WE MIGHT BE WITNESSING THE TWO ANGRIEST PEOPLE IN THE WORLD RIGHT NOW.
“YOU KEEDS.. YOU STUPEED KEEDS.. YOU.. YOU..” CONTINUES THE GOLFER. HE FIGURES OUT WHAT HE’S DRIVING AT: “YOU PROFIT FROM MY SUCK!“.
KEVIN HAS TO LAUGH AT THIS AND I DON’T BLAME HIM. I’M HAVING A HARD TIME KEEPING IT IN MYSELF. I’M STILL STAGGERED THAT THIS MAN HAS BEEN ‘ACCIDENTLY’ HITTING SO MANY GOLF BALLS INTO THE WOODS. I’M JUST ASTONISHED THAT HE WASN’T 100% SURE WE WERE THERE.
BUT BEST OF ALL IS PEET’S REPONSE. HE’S JUST ENRAGED BEYOND MEASURE AT THIS POINT AND IS SHAKING BOTH FISTS IN THE AIR LIKE A SHAMAN. “I DON’T WANT YOUR SUCK!!!” HE SCREAMS OUT, BARELY AWARE OF WHAT HE’S SAYING, “I JUST WANT YOUR BALLS!! AND NOW I HAVE THEM!!“
WITH THAT PEET SLINGS HIS NEARLY-EMPTY GARBAGE OVER HIS SHOULDERS AND RUNS BACK INTO THE WOODS. KEVIN AND I FOLLOW HIM, NEARLY DOUBLED OVER WITH LAUGHTER, AND THE LAST THING WE HEAR IS THE GOLFER SCREAM (AND I’M NOT MAKING THIS UP) “YOU WON’T GEET AWAY WITH DEES!!!!”
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