How Shall One Don A Missing Hat?
"M'lord, Act Two!"
"Gesundheit." The Complete Works of William Shakespeare (abridged)
"Hey, guys!" Kid said, waving to the fellow Club Champs at their lounge.
Putts and Joe looked up and waved. "Why, hello, Kid!" Putts greeted cheerfully. He put down his hand. "You're just in time. Tiny won't give me any assistance, as Joe here has placed his feet on the table." He glared at his Marion Doubles partner. "What disrespect and lack of etiquette for the lounge of the great ones!"
Joe shrugged. "Dude, it's a free country!" he protested, sitting up and slapping away Putts' hand as he tried to shove Joe's feet off. He slumped back on the black couch. "There's no rule about feet on tables!"
"It's disrespectful and shows your lack of etiquette and manners!"
"Spaghetti and what?" Joe repeated, raising an eyebrow as he lowered his sunglasses in a questioning manner.
Putts groaned and slapped his forehead. "Just get your filthy shoes off the table!" he complained.
"Like, chill, Putts," Joe sighed, giving a relaxed smile and pushing his sunglasses back over his eyes. "I'm not breaking a law or anything."
"Tiny, please, I beg of you to do something about him!" Putts begged, turning his head towards the burly man.
Tiny shrugged. "He provides very good arguments," he said. "There is no law about putting feet on tables!"
"No, really?" Kid interjected flatly. He shot Putts a smirk. "Actually, there is."
"What?" Tiny and Joe said, staring at Kid.
The legendary golfer grinned and nodded. "Yup!" he said. "In some countries, you could go to jail for putting your feet on the table, right, Putts?"
The blond golfer opened his mouth in confusion, but Kid quickly winked at Putts. Putts gasped in realization before giving a smirk and an affirmative nod. "Kid speaks the truth!" he agreed.
Joe shot Kid and Putts confused faces, before his eyes fearfully shifted towards Tiny. With a grumble, the brown-haired golfer-dancer adjusted his posture and placed his feet on the ground. "So…" he began slowly. "Anybody here danced through a recent challenge?"
"Yep!" Kid said, and gave a big sigh as he plunked himself next to Putts. "I have to put up with a really irritating – not to mention humiliating – problem! See, I – "
"Yeah!" Tiny said, cracking his knuckles. "Yeah, I had to do that, too! Some wussy little punks were bad-mouthin' me at the Dunes Course!"
"Oh, dear, I feel sorry for those wussy little punks," Putts murmured with a shake of his head, almost instinctively standing up and sitting next to Kid's left so that Kid was near Tiny.
"Sorry?" Tiny repeated, hearing Putt's little side remark. Putts gulped but relaxed as Tiny said, "Yeah, me too! I mean, if Azalea got her hands on them – "
"Whuzzat?" Joe interrupted, looking up. "Azzy was gonna beat up somebody?"
"Hey, if I was called…whatever those punks called her, I'd beat the living daylights outta those mice!" Tiny told him. He cleared his throat and folded his arms, looking back at Kid. "So, did you have to deal with that problem, Kid?"
"Er, not really," Kid answered, and placed his fingers against his head. "See, Gene – "
"Ah, speaking of which, where is Gene anyway?" questioned Putts.
"Hold on, let me talk, and, well, I think he's still out somewhere in the Marion course or so," Kid returned. "Last I heard, he was complaining that nobody was gonna notice him if he didn't find his – "
"Whoa, nobody noticing 'The Gene'?" Joe scoffed, using quotation marks with his fingers. "Yeah, right! Anybody can see him with his smirk and that hat of his."
Kid frowned. "Yeah, speaking of hats, I was just saying that Gene – " he continued.
"Kid!" cried Gene, suddenly jumping in the Club Champs' lounge. He threw his arm forward and pointed a finger at Kid. "You're supposed to be helping me find my hat, you imbecile!"
"Somebody shoot him," Kid hissed under his breath, tired of being interrupted.
"Hey, who are you?" Putts asked, narrowing his eyes at Gene. "I'm sorry, but you can only be here if you have a title."
"Yeah, so scram, you lil' shrimp!" Tiny growled, standing up and cracking his knuckles again. "Or I'll squash you, like the little bug you are!"
Gene's eye twitched and he gritted his teeth. Oh, crud, Kid thought, looking away nervously.
"Putts, Tiny, it's ME!" the genius golfer roared, smacking Putts and Tiny across the faces, then diving behind Kid as Tiny turned towards him furiously.
"Hold the phone! Yuss?" Tiny gasped, his eyes widening in shock as his anger diminished. "Seriously, am I dreaming? You're not Gene! You're just an imposter!"
"B-but – " Gene argued, raising a finger in the air to explain his dilemma.
"I do believe it is Gene, Tiny," Putts corrected, staring at Gene. "Though, you look different…I got it! Is that a new vest?"
"No way, Putts, he got new shoes!" Tiny said, and snatched Gene's leg, pulling it up and causing Gene to grab a hold of the couch as not to be dangled by his foot. "See? I was right! They're more brown-ish than orange-ish, like his other shoes!"
"I think they look a bit more beige…" Putts murmured, observing the shoe. He shook his head. "Nope, you were correct, Tiny, they seem more auburn than orange…ish."
"Putts, man, I think Gene just ain't wearing that hat he always wears," Joe pointed out. He bent down and shot Gene a thumbs-up, then considered Gene's current position and did a sideways thumbs-up instead. "Which I think is pretty groovy, man; change is good! Well…despite the fact that it's kinda weird, since the hat's, like, part of you…and sometimes change isn't good…"
Gene's eye started twitching again as he was released from Tiny's grip and sat up. Kid smacked a hand against his forehead and tried ignoring a sideways glance from the self-righteous golfer. "I told you they wouldn't recognize me…" Gene growled through the side of his mouth.
"No kidding," Kid muttered, looking up and wondering why nobody seemed to have any common sense at the precise moment. "Well, see, Gene lost his hat – "
"No, The Gene did NOT lose his hat!" Gene snapped, slapping a hand over Kid's mouth. He gave a nervous chuckle before clearing his throat and clenching his fist. "The Gene's hat was STOLEN!"
"That's horrible!" Putts gasped. "Despite the fact, yes, it is an inanimate object" – here Gene shot Putts a threatening glance, but Putts ignored this and continued on – "a theft is still theft, and is a terrible crime."
"What is with all this talk 'bout authority?" Joe groaned, throwing his arms in the air and (unknown to his actions) placed his feet on the table again, much to Putts' chagrin. "This law and rules stuff is boring me! Rules are meant to be broken."
"I hate people who disrespect authority!" Putts scowled, shoving Joe's shoes off the table. "Rules control our well-being. If everything was pure anarchy, there would be chaos of unspeakable horror!"
"English, Professor Putts?" Joe joked, smirking.
"This isn't about Joe, this is about The Gene and The Gene's hat!" Gene said, a hand heading towards his head to tip his hat, when Gene just remembered that, well, he didn't have his hat. He slammed his fist into the palm of his hand. "I will have my revenge!"
"It's all about you and revenge, isn't it, Gene?" Kid sighed, who was caught up in a Sports Star Golf magazine about Monty Moles infesting several courses again.
"'Since brevity is the soul of wit, I will be brief; he is mad,'" Putts whispered.
Kid had no idea what Shakespeare piece that came from, but from that quote itself, it did seem as though Gene had gone off his rocker. "C'mon, Gene, we haven't checked the Palms Club yet," he said, poking Gene and standing up. "Hey, if you guys hear of Gene's hat, you know what to do."
"Sell it to his fans!" Tiny joked, snickering and slamming hands with Joe (which was a mistake as the golfer of, apparently, bad manners, yelped and shook his hand helplessly, placing it in his other hand and wincing).
"THAT'S NOT FUNNY!" Gene shrieked, his eyes widening in horror as he whirled his head around to face Tiny, who just stared at Gene pitifully.
Kid felt his eye twitch twice before he dragged Gene off. "He was only joking, Gene," he muttered in his ear. "Get a hold of yourself, for crying out loud!"
"You do NOT joke about The Gene OR any of my other personal belongings at desperate times like this!" Gene said. He stared at Kid. "I cannot believe how disillusioned you are right now! Have you no consideration of others' grief and despair?"
"Somebody shoot me," Kid whimpered, burying his face in his hands as Gene walked out of the Marion Clubhouse.
To Be Continued…
