The Diego Diaries: Golfin' and Goofin' (dd8 200)
(This is the eighth time we've passed 200 but who's counting?) :D
=0=Moving on
The game continued as all of the many players made their way forward taking their turns on a course that was considered very difficult even among golf courses on Earth. The water traps were filled with a non-toxic liquid that was hip deep to humans in its deepest place and was sealed into its configuration by a faux gravel bottom. It worked out better for this situation because it didn't evaporate and didn't require cleaning.
The sand traps were filled with very fine sand of the different colors of Mars, one red, two others blue, one black and the last one which was divided into three smaller parts located strategically was filled with the usual beige. The roughs were left rocky and crude, spared of giant rocks but filled with some that could trap and/or deflect shots easily.
Around the course there were benches and the trees and bushes that lined it were amazing. A concession to upkeep meant that the entire golf course and holes themselves were covered in artificial turf but it was so realistic that it was startling when first told. It was a very beautiful course with continuous light from the dome during the day, artificial light at night and a comfy 75 degrees Fahrenheit or 23.8 degrees Celsius for the shirtsleeve weather it boasted.
A beehive on the tenth hole fed the flower gardens that bloomed there constantly as well as the small grove of trees that bore figs, olives, different fruits and a small vineyard that grew table grapes. Trails to them and other places in the huge newly extended dome passed the golf course at several different holes. It all melded together very very well.
"What do you think, Daddy?" Bobby Epps asked as he considered the distance from the green that he was currently halted upon. If he overpowered the stroke, a sand trap it was.
"Pray?" Harley Epps said with a snicker.
"Don't hit it too hard. Use this club, Bobby," Tennessee said as she picked one from the bag.
He stared at it, considered his own futility and the fact that she liked to embarrass him in front of his friends as a child, then did what all brothers did when their siblings tried to help them. He picked another club, walked to the ball, took stock, then hit it with the force he thought he should use.
It landed in the sand trap.
It was intensely silent a moment, then a snicker brought them back to the moment.
Sideswipe was grinning at them. He walked to them, then glanced at the sand trap. "You should've listened to your sister. You played the wrong club and now you have to swing backward. You're right handed but now you have to finish the hole left handed, sucker."
Epps glared at Sideswipe, then the sand trap. "Fuck."
Gales of laughter greeted that.
Harley would blast past and set up his march on the green down the fairway. Epps would find out how fragged it was to play a game from the other side of the club. It added a lot to his perspective let alone his score.
Oh, and it was all Tennessee's fault.
=0=Ratchet and Tie
They came up on the seventh hole so they switched partners again. They were supposed to on the fourth hole but gabbing and goofing with the crowds had led them to forget. Ron was playing with Ratchet and his son, Sam Witwicky was Tie's partner. Sam played a forceful but low skilled game. Ron could be a pro.
"What do you think I should use, Ron? Do I use a niblick or a mashie?" He smiled his very best smile which brought approving grins from the mechs and giant amusement from the humans who hadn't a clue how dazzlingly beautiful Ratchet was when he did that.
Ron laughed loudly. "If I knew which ones they were I'd advise you. Just use any club but the putter. Sam's such a bad golfer no matter what you use you'll win."
"Thanks for the support," Sam said to his father. He grinned at both of them. "Incentive to win this is a good thing."
"I know. I'm made of it," Ratchet said as he took an iron, pranced to the ball, took a quick stance and clobbered the ball without any preparation.
Up it went high into the sky, then landed on the green far down the fairway. He watched it bounce, then stop rolling about two feet from the hole. Grinning, he flipped the club to Docker who spun it like a baton, then sheathed it to the delight of the crowd. He grinned at his three round partners with a slight bow. "Your turn, slaggers."
They glanced at each other, then Ron walked up. It would take three strokes for him to get on the green, then slightly more for the other two with them.
Ratchet was slagging killing it.
=0=Prowl and Prime
Down the fairway they could see the Lennox duo catching up. They looked as sweaty-browed as Prime considered they'd be. They wouldn't be the only ones who had to go back to the beginning and start again. Corey MacFarlane and his father had to go back to the first green to restart the game with their balls after Corey aced the water trap.
Given that it was Fenix who threw the ball, it was either that he couldn't heave it all the way to the Resort patio or he was merciful. Either way, two more human slaggers entered the triple digit score card possibility.
Prime noted the putt he had to make, a fifteen footer which at this height and stature actually looked hard. Had he been his usual three story building in height, it would have looked like child's play.
Everyone became extremely quiet.
Prowl stared at him tensely but joined them.
Prime went through the math, mentally worked out his bodily moves, then rapped the ball. It rolled swiftly to the hole and began to circle the rim.
It circled and circled and …
=0=Elsewhere
"Need a hand there?"
Smoldering optics of outrage glared upward at Blackjack as he watched Ironhide try to get himself out of the rough. His ball had landed in the middle of three rocks and no matter how hard he tried there was no clear way out. Finally, he stared at the rocks with visible fury, grabbed one, then threw it as far away from the course as his diminished status would allow.
It was slagging far.
Moments later …
The judges conferred together nearby as Ironhide fumed. He had chipped the ball onto the green from the rough now neater than it was moments before where it had rolled toward the hole and was paused a few inches away from it.
HOWEVER …
He'd thrown a rock away and there had to be penalties, consequences, demerits.
Maybe.
This was when the ultimate authority on Cybertronian golf was called in to make an appearance. Optimus Prime could be seen walking down the fairway with a big grin on his face. The cameras broadcasting the entire show everywhere that had a flat screen within the surrounding 250,000 light years followed him lovingly. "You called?" he asked.
Gavin Pritchard with his dad who were the judges glanced at him, then chuckled. "Ironhide removed a rock from the rough. He threw it about 300 miles that way. What's the rule here for being a bad sport?"
Ironhide glanced sharply at Pritchard. "Slagger." He glared at Prime. "I AM IRONHIDE! I VANQUISHED A FOE AND AM ADVANCING ON THE TARGET! BACK ME UP OR I'LL SKIN YOU ALIVE AT THE NEXT WAR GAME! SIR!"
Huge howling laughter greeted that as Prime considered what fresh hell he could impose on this, his brother and best friend. "That was not a nice thing to do, Ironhide. You know the rules."
"WHAT RULES!? YOU JUST MADE THEM UP LAST NIGHT!" Ironhide replied.
It was tumultuous among the punters to watch the exchange.
At the media center nearby ...
"Did he? Make them up last night?" a sportscaster asked Blaster.
"No. I think he worked on them the day before, too," Blaster replied.
Huge laughter greeted that bit of news.
Back at the scene of the crime ...
"Was it a big rock?" -Prime.
"Yes/NO!" -Ironhide and Gavin. His father was laughing too hard to answer.
"Well, I would add a stroke to his score. I could make it fifty but I am feeling merciful today," Optimus said.
"SEE IF *I* EVER AM AGAIN!" Ironhide bellowed as Optimus began to walk up the fairway back to his own play. He frowned. "HURRY UP! I'M GOING TO SINK THAT SLAGGING PUTT!"
Seconds before the Big Decision about The Cheater ...
It circled and circled and circled … then fell in.
HUZZAH!
Prowl smirked at him, then relayed a text. "You're needed to clarify a rule. Ironhide was a dork. That's a quote from his ada."
Prime snickered, then handed Prowl his putter. "Hold this," he said as he walked onward down the course to be a judge.
Prowl watched him go, then looked coolly at Springer and Drift who were 'golfing through' on their quest to see who would have the biggest score in the game. "Did you read the rules?"
Springer who was smirking at Niall Graham as his father chipped onto the green glanced at Prowl. "Rules? I don't need no stinking rules."
"Really," Prowl said with an almost neural net tingling sense of elation. "You do understand that in this game the lower the score, the better. The lowest score wins."
Drift and Springer stared at him, then Niall Graham and his dad, Prowl, each other, Niall, Prowl, his dad …
=0=Almost at the same time. Almost
"What did I miss?" Optimus asked as he finally reached Prowl. He noted that Springer and Drift were looking around themselves like cornered chipmunks. "What happened?"
"WHAT THE FRAG!" Springer said as he rounded on Graham and Graham, Senior. "YOU FRAGGING LIAR!"
"Who, me?" Niall asked with all of the insincere sincerity that he could muster.
"YOU FRAGGER! YOU SAID THE BIGGEST SCORE WINS!" Springer said as Drift began to laugh loudly. "WHAT ARE YOU LAUGHING AT!?"
"Nothing," Drift said. He grinned. "I never saw you keeping score at practice. I didn't. No one told me a thing."
"YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO DO THAT! ASK ABOUT SLAG! YOU'RE THE RESPONSIBLE ONE!" Springer said. "JUDGE McFARLANE, OPTIMUS! PENALIZE HIS AFT BACK INTO THE TREES HE CAME FROM!"
"Are you impugning the honor of the human species?" Niall asked with a smirk.
"No, slagger. Just you," Springer said. "I was fighting Decepticons when your species was still picking lice out of each other's back sides."
Drift leaned around him. "He was. I was a Decepticon so I remember."
"Did you two ever fight each other?" Niall's dad asked around his howling laughter.
They stared at him, then each other.
Drift grinned. "There was that blockade run at Norvellus 4. And that shootout at Scimitar. I heard that you were in the bar fight at Tripoli 6. I could probably go on but I think you're fixing to punch me hard," he said with a slight grin."
Springer stared at Drift a moment. "You were in the bar fight at Tripoli?"
Drift nodded. "I saw your squad enter the bar and moved back toward the exit in the rear. I wanted to see how you did because you were supposed to be a good fighter."
"I was," Springer said.
"You were," Drift replied.
Springer stared at him. "You don't sound very convinced. I was good at fighting. I got promotions on my fighting. I'm chief of the Wreckers and stuff."
"That's true," Drift said with a nod. He was grinning because Springer was in the zone. Any of the soldiers there could recognize this diversional bullshit and general army style fucking around but it wasn't clear that the civilian humans did. They were watching with fascination though. The authenticity was apparent no matter the hoo-haw.
"I tossed all the 'Cons out on their afts. I did that. Alone," Springer said as he turned to face Drift for a serious confab seemingly oblivious to the moment.
Drift considered that. "You missed me."
"I cleared the bar. I couldn't have missed you," Springer said with a straight face. "That fight was memorable. Its in the History of the Wreckers, chapter 17. If you were there I tossed you, too."
"You didn't." Drift had a straight face as well even given the raging conversation they were having off line that included Prime but not Prowl who was beginning to frown.
"Ahem," Prowl said.
Both Springer and Drift turned to him. "Wait a second. This is important." Then they turned back to memory lane once again.
Prowl stared at them. The Look™ which usually worked didn't this time on the two of them but Hot Rod and Smokey's sphincters tightened up immediately.
=0=TBC 06-29-2-21 07-04-2021
Misty and Fancyspinner, thank you for the notes. Prime signals that the balls are coming. There's a huge penalty for hitting anyone with a ball. You have to hold Ironhide's hand. :D:D:D As for the game, I haven't played golf in fifty years. I do find it hilarious however. Hugs, darlings! :D:D:D
niblick and mashie are slang for different golf clubs way back when. :D