Playing a Round with Joanie's Not Fair Game

After 26 golf lessons and countless trips hitting balls at the range, Joanie had fulfilled her end of the bargain and was now playing her first 9 holes with Eddie on a sweltering day.

Midway through the round, Joanie’s ball was at the lake’s edge, and Eddie watched from the green.

Two shots and three putts later, Eddie sizzled with such impatience that he putted-out and walked to her bag, grabbing the folded pink towel to swab sweat from his neck, never taking his eyes from his hopelessly inept wife.

A gutteral animal-like sound emerged from him as Eddie felt and smelled something ghastly, warm and gooey that he had just spread all over himself, and he ran to the lake cussing a blue streak with overtones of purple and evil-black trimmed in murderous fringe.

Joanie screamed after him, “Well there was duck poo next to my ball and I used the towel ’cuz I didn’t want it on my club,” as, an instant later, she burst into shrieking, oxygen-robbing laughter that doubled her over, breasts to thighs.

He might have forgiven her, except for the Facebook photo of him, on all fours in deep mud, head completely submerged in the lake, derriere in the air, splashing water over his neck and shoulders.