Chapter 137: Jake Takes up Golf
Why do I have a feeling that things are not going to go the way Jake expects them to go?
I signed up for a charity golf tournament," Jake said. Both he and his best friend Nick were standing on a red bridge in the middle of a small park in downtown Zootopia. The raccoon watched while the taller lanky fox tossed bread crumbs down to a cluster of ducks floating in the pond below. The city's majestic skyscrapers seemed to reach into the gray clouds above, and despite the familiar and somewhat comforting urban smells and sounds, the raccoon could pick up the faintly moist scent of oncoming rain even while the air pressure dropped as the air became cooler and a slight breeze picked up.
"When did you take up golf?" Nick finally asked after glancing westward towards the darkening sky.
"A little less than a week ago," was the answer the fox received.
"If you have only just started golfing, do you really think that you will be ready to play in a tournament? Some animals play for years before they sign up to play in a tourney."
"I have been practicing for hours every day."
"What golf course are you going to? Did you hire a golf instructor?"
"I am not going to a golf course. I bought one of those simulators and I have it set up over at the office."
"You are learning to play golf using a video game?"
"It is not just a video game! I bought a huge elephant-sized television and a state-of-the-art training software package, it has a special club which simulates hitting a real ball…"
"Jake, it's a video game!" the fox interrupted Jake's answer while he shook his head in disbelief.
"It seems very realistic!" the raccoon replied in a rather defensive tone.
"How would you know, you don't play golf?"
"Sure I do, I learned on the simulator!"
"Jake, that isn't anything like doing it for real!"
"Sure it is! Don't they train pilots on flight simulators all the time?"
"They still wouldn't let a trainee fly a plane full of passengers without flying lessons and experience."
"I even bought a set of clubs online and I got a new pink sport shirt with a little golf ball logo on the right chest and a pair of those blue and gray checkered slacks that golfers wear in the movies."
"Oh you must look a sight," the fox snickered.
"I think it makes me look like Armadillo Palmer, but younger and sexier...with a lot more fur...oh, and no shell."
"Jake, I don't think this is a good idea. You should at least take a lesson or two," Nick dumped the remaining crumbs into the water below and they were quickly snatched up by the ducks.
"Nope, I've got this all worked out!" Jake confidently replied with a grin. He glanced up when he felt a few drops of water falling from the heavens above.
"Sure, Jake," the fox sighed while he once again shook his head in disbelief. "Come on and let's find someplace to sit inside before the rain comes."
Several Weeks Later
"So how did the charity golf tournament go?" Nick asked when he saw Jake slumped in an overstuffed chair in the raccoon's den. "Did your unorthodox training work out?"
The raccoon didn't answer at first but he finally grumbled, "I got a birdie on the first hole."
"A birdie, meaning a score of one stroke under Par, right? That's very good!"
No, I got a birdie…as in a birdie in the backyard of a nearby house…"
"Wait…what?" the puzzled-looking fox replied before taking a seat in a nearby chair.
"I sliced the shot and my ball knocked it right off of a birdfeeder, there were feathers everywhere." Jake continued.
"You hit a bird?"
"Not just any bird, but an endangered red-crested bluebird."
"You killed a rare bird with a golf ball?"
"Oh, I didn't kill it. I only…well, let's just say I winged it a bit."
"Jake?"
"It survived and finally came to."
"That's good!"
"Not really, that bird was pissed…really pissed"
"How do you know that?"
"It came looking for me."
"What?"
"You remember that old Alfred Hitchcat movie The Birds?"
"Is that the one where a flock of angry birds traps a tiger in the phone booth while they peck at the glass?"
"Yeah, I was kind of like that tiger but without the phone booth and there was only one bird."
"Jake?"
"It chased me across the grass and into the clubhouse, it wasn't a big bird but it sure had a sharp beak. At first, I thought I lost it but when I peeked outside, it got me good."
"It pecked you again?"
"No, it pooped on me, a soaring dive-bomb poop from twenty-five feet above. The air force would have been impressed with the almost surgical precision in which it dropped its load!"
"Then what happened?"
"The bird flew away, but they wouldn't let me back on the course. They took away my clubs, they claimed I was a danger. I guess that figures since the charity which was holding the tourney was the Zootopia Avian Association."
"You almost killed a rare bird while playing golf to raise money for a bird conservation group?"
"Afterwards I came home. Needless to say, I have given up golf."
"I'm sure that if you practice, maybe hire a golf instructor, you might get good at the game."
"Nope, I am never going to pick up another ball and club!"
"Don't you think that is drastic?"
"Nope!"
"Even miniature golf? The boys will be disappointed."
The raccoon grew quiet for a few moments, for he really loved playing miniature golf. "Nope, no more miniature golf either. I will only play Putt-Putt!" he finally proclaimed.
"Jake, Putt-Putt is miniature golf," Nick chuckled.
"No, it is not!" the raccoon almost growled. "Putt-Putt is Putt-Putt and golf is golf."
"Sure, Jake," the fox sighed while he once again shook his head in disbelief.