Chapter 9: Mr. Tux's Career
The next day, the coyotes and the jackrabbit came back to the house. Private was shy and hid behind his mother while the rest of them sipped tea. When he slipped out, he had his golf bag slung over his shoulders. He almost reached the door when Cathy called towards him.
"Where ya goin', little feller?" Cathy said, noticing him heading towards the back door.
"Just going…to play…some golf…?" Private stuttered.
Angela smiled. Cathy and her gang's eyes lit up.
"Golf? You guys play golf too?" Cathy squealed. "Can we please join you? Pleeeaaase?"
Private's eyes darted to the door, to his mother, and to the visitors. He was frozen, put on the spot. No, Private no, they're carnivores! Private's conscience told him. However, his mom overruled the conscience's decision.
"I think Private would be delighted to have you play golf with him." Angela said, glancing at Private with her amber eyes that commanded authority. "Wouldn't you, Private?"
Private let out the breath he was holding and murmured, "Yes, Mum."
Private trudged out the back door, letting the sand bury his feet. The neighbors followed, and stood in awe at the sight of Private's makeshift golf course. Bucky zipped around the whole thing and gave a thumbs up when he was done.
"Looks faaaaantasic, Private!" he saluted, being silly.
"Um, thank you, I think…" Private said, handing him a short golf club.
"Yeah, it is impressive. Who built it?" Cathy marveled, taking a golf club into her paw gingerly.
"My mum did," Private replied, rubbing the back of his head and giving a wide grin.
Walter came forward and took a golf club, too and finally talked. "Your mother is an amazing architect."
Walter's voice was soft and friendly, and he was gentle with the club he held in his hands. Private nodded, and Walter returned the gesture with a sheepish smile. The four of them stood where the ball rested on the tee. They all agreed that the rule was "Ladies First" and allowed Cathy to try first. She stepped up to the ball and clenched her golf club tightly. The ball was scarlet, the color of her choice. She took her posture, pulled the club back, and swung. Twink! She hit the ball lightly, and it sounded like someone tapped on glass. The ball weaved through a few traps, but slowed down and stopped in the middle of the course.
"Awwww…! Doggone it! Oh, well, I've never been any good at this game anyway." Cathy blushed a little and gripped her club firmly.
Next up was Bucky, who moved so fast, Private wondered how he'd grown equipped to a quiet game like miniature golf. Bucky stood up there and tapped his toes to the ground like he was impatient. He drew back his club and struck the ball with all his might, knocking it into Cathy's ball and not going any further.
"Aw, nuts! Your turn, Walter." Bucky said disappointedly.
Walter nodded and stepped forward. He looked like he was shaking, and he took a gulp. He chose a blue ball, and set it on the tee. He spun the club around like a ninja, and then he pulled it back and hit the ball expertly. The ball swerved past the other two and it landed right outside the hole. It tilted and rolled in, making the three visitors jump for joy and hug each other. Cathy leaned over and gave Walter a kiss on the cheek, making him blush.
"Okay, Private, your turn!" Cathy trilled cheerfully.
"O-okay, here I go…" Private said nervously.
Private stood at the tee, staring at the orange golf ball that seemed to eye him back. He pulled the golf club in his hand back and struck the ball. The golf ball evaded traps and did a serpentine all the way into the hole. Private smiled modestly.
"Lucky Shot, I suppose." He said.
"Yeah, sure," Cathy said skeptically. "I think you and Walter should have a game to yourselves. I can't play very well, anyway."
"Yeah!" Bucky agreed.
"Challenged accepted," Walter said, holding out his paw for a hand-shake. "And may the best animal win."
Private nodded and shook Walter's paw. He gulped, but his heart beat fast in excitement. Now that Walter was acquainted with Private and his mother, he seemed more confident and outgoing than before. Private still kind of thought of the coyotes as predators, but now that they all had a common interest he seemed more at ease and relaxed, too. As soon as Walter got the next hole-in-one, Private stepped up to the tee and scored another as well. They kept scoring perfectly until the last hole. The two were neck-and-neck and starting to get really competitive. Walter missed, with his ball falling into the clutches of a trap. Private stepped up to the tee for the last time in the game, and struck the ball. It swerved from side to side, trap to trap, until finally…Clunk! The ball fell in, declaring Private the winner of the game.
Walter's ears drooped at the sides of his head, and he whimpered at being beaten. Private did not boast or brag; instead he waddled over to the discouraged canine and patted him on the back where he could reach. Walter looked down with his puppy dog eyes.
"Don't worry, Waltah," Private smiled warmly. "Keep practicing, and maybe you can beat me someday."
Hearing these words made Walter pull his ears up a little. "You really think so?" he asked.
"Yeah, come back if you evah want to play again. I need a good playah like you around to practice with." Private encouraged, showing the kindness that he had been taught by his uncle.
"Wow, thanks, Private!" all three of the animals said simultaneously.
After a few more games and cups of tea, the visitors left. With smiles wide and spirits lifted, they said good bye and promised to come by again soon. Angela was satisfied that Private had made new friends, and Private was happy he was able to find someone who enjoyed miniature golf as much as he did.
About a year passed and animals came from all around to challenge Private. He took on a nickname, Mr. Tux, to make it easier for others to identify him. He faced challenge after challenge, peacefully encouraging the ones who lost, and always told them they were welcome back any time they wanted. He even invited the dusty and sandy challengers inside for a little tea. All was well, until…it happened.
A warm day in july gone horribly wrong. A devastating disaster that would haunt Private for the rest of his life. When he showed up. The Amarillo Kid.
An armadillo that looked as sketchy as a coloring book, with a cold stare and a sandy suit of armor. When he arrived there was a knock at the door. When Private answered, the armadillo had curled up in a ball and rolled across the threshold. He uncurled himself and gave a snort for a laugh.
"I'm lookin' for Mr. Tux!" he yelled loudly.
"Oh, 'ello there. I am Mr. Tux. I suppose you're here for a golf match?" Private said.
"Yeah, I'm here to beat the champ." The armadillo replied with a pose.
"Alright then, the course is out back. C'mon, I'll show you."
The armadillo rolled along behind Private until they made it to the backyard. The armadillo snorted again and pulled a golf club seemingly out of nowhere. Private pulled a club from his bag, and they decided who would go first. The Amarillo Kid insisted that Private go first because he was the champion, and winners always begin the game. Docile Private accepted the offer and advanced to the tee. The Amarillo Kid seemed to watch Private's every move with his cold eyes and his sneer showed a little too much confidence. Confidence. Was that even the right word for this armadillo's attitude? Private shook his head and eyed the ball. It seemed to shiver in anticipation for the incoming clash with the golf club.
"Any time you're ready, Mr. Tux," Amarillo Kid said.
Something about the way he said Mr. Tux unnerved Private. He emphasized the T and said the name more like a threat. What did he have up his sleeve? Private continued to concentrate on his swing, how agile he was, and how hard he hit the ball. When he tapped it, he got a hole-in-one. So did the Amarillo Kid. Just the first round. Don't get your knickers in a twist. Private thought of this saying his Uncle Nigel would say when things would get a little out of hand.
Soon enough, the two competitors were at the eighteenth hole. A bystander came by. A cute little girl opossum with an ice cream in her paws. Private and the Amarillo Kid were at a tie. Whoever got this one was the winner. When Private approached the tee, becoming the victor of the game seemed impossible. There was one way that Private could win. But it was despicable. Unthinkable. Terrible. Dishonorable for Private to do. However, his pride took over and made him a monster. It forced his flippers to clutch the club in a way that made the ball curve into the air and land in the little opossum girl's ice cream, and roll back onto the course into the hole. The little girl cried, devastated because of her loss of her delectable dairy treat.
Private cursed himself for doing such an awful and rueful thing. This wasn't him. He dropped to his knees and dropped his golf club. The Amarillo Kid watched, but without dismay. Oh yes, he was disgraced at himself for losing, but was triumphant in a way. He ruined his opponent's reputation. Made him no longer an honest player. He made Private a cheating, ruthless, jerk. He grinned meanly.
Angela watched the armadillo and Private walk across the house to the backyard while she was boiling the tea water. She stared into the boiling water, wondering about Nigel. They had exchanged phone calls in the middle of the night, making sure that Private was asleep before she called. But this time was different. The phone that hung on the wall rang so noisily it shook. Angela was alarmed at the sudden noise and when she went to answer it she fumbled it in her flippers. When she finally gripped it in her right flipper, she pulled it up to her ear hole.
"Hello?" she said with a puzzled tone.
"Angela," a muffled and out of breath voice came from the other end of the line.
"Nigel? Is that you?" Angela asked. Hearing the familiar voice was pleasing, but at the same time disturbing because of its nervous modulation.
"Yes," Nigel said, still heaving breaths. "It's me. Listen, I need you to- Hyah!- I need you to get Private out of there. Yaaaahhh!"
There was the sound of a struggling fight and things breaking in the background, scaring Angela even more.
"Nigel! What…"
"He's found you and Private! I want you to leave! Now!"
"B-but Nigel, I don't understand…"
"I said NOW!" Nigel screamed and hung up.
There was a loud buzzing on Angela's end, followed by a short tri-tone and "We are sorry but your call has been dropped…" Angela slammed the phone back onto the receiver and smashed her fists to the countertop.
"Nigel, I swear… Augh, I shouldn't have thought about you…" Angela cursed a few words, and then threw herself down on the couch. "Great, now how do I explain moving to Private?"
Angela decided to drag herself off the couch and call Private inside to tell him. When she called him in, he trudged inside, and his competitor rolled away. She saw his dismayed face, and wondered what was wrong. Instead of asking, she told him that they were going to have to move. To Angela's surprise, Private actually perked up at the idea. He grabbed his suitcase and told his mom he'd be ready when she was.
Within a few hours, they were both packed. Ready to leave and have another fresh start. Private thought he might miss all those golf matches, but then remembered that little opossum girl's face. If he never played golf again, that couldn't happen. He wouldn't be that monster that fed on his pride.
The journey started on foot, with the two penguins waddling north. Soon they came to a road, where huge semi-trucks and cars zoomed by and ruffled their feathers. Private's mother grabbed his flipper tightly and jumped for the bumper of the next car that came their way. Private was stunned until he landed. When he looked up, he was moving.
"M-Mum?"
"You wouldn't have jumped if I told you to." She recited.
"Oh, right."
Within a few days, the penguins had gone very far north east. They hitch-hiked from car to car, each time Angela scared Private out of his wits, but reminded him that he wouldn't have jumped if she asked him to. They were flying through town, enjoying the wind in their feathers. But there was a sudden stop and they were thrown into the back window of the taxi they had been riding. The driver turned at the sudden thud and began to scream.
"Ahhhhh! Wild animals! Someone call Animal Control!"
In a quick five minutes there was a vehicle dispatched to the location. Two nets were dropped, and there was a sudden pain in Private's backside. He turned his head to see a decorated dart with a rather long needle point. His pupils dilated and he danced around, dizzy. He heard his mom cry out his name and scream a few choice words at the people that were shooting at them. He saw many stars pass through his vision and fell over onto the asphalt, with his eyes involuntarily closing.
Hey, everybody! Okay, so, creepy cliffhanger? Still, not torture. Well, thanks to the two who did review last time, and I hope that maybe more of you readers will be encouraged to review as well. Just put what you think about it. I only ask for your opinion. Until the next chapter, see ya! -Kittypig ^_^
