They drove up to the Hundred Acre Country Club in Piglet's shiny, black, Lexus, SUV that even had heated and air conditioned seats. The Hundred Acre Country Club was one of the nicest membership clubs in the United States. It was so nice that the PGA had held the U.S. Open there one year. It was a playground for Michigan's finest. Barry Sanders, Kid Rock, Mike Illitch, and Bill Ford, frequented it.
"So do we high-jack a golf cart and go find them?" Tigger asked.
"We can't do that," Piglet squeaked. "I suggest we go inside the pro shop and ask. Perhaps they know which hole they're on."
"Oh bother," muttered Pooh. "I have a rumbly in my tumbly. You think there's a restaurant around?"
"Yeah and they only have poser food," Tigger snapped. "We ain't here to stuff our gullets. We're here to keep Gopher's drug lord from ramming hell up our asses."
"I like it up the ass," Eeyore said.
Piglet, Pooh, and Tigger whirled around and stared at Eeyore like he had lobsters crawling out of his ears.
"Oh dear," Piglet murmured.
"Let's go inside," said Tigger. Tigger led the parade of Piglet, Eeyore, and Pooh into the fine club house that was decorated like an Italian villa. They even had a string quartet playing Bach partitas in the lobby.
Pooh walked right by them with his paw deep into the crack of his ass.
"Stop scratching your ass man," Tigger groaned. "You're in public."
"Oh bother," Pooh sighed. "I have such itchy butt sweat."
They marched into the pro shop that sold over priced polo shirts, golf gear, and Louis Voutton golf bags.
"Can I help you?" A man behind the desk asked. He looked at the scraggly band of Eeyore, Tigger, and Pooh with disgust.
"Yeah," answered Tigger. "We're looking for this dude Harold Daniels. They are golfing here. We need to find them."
"They went out this morning," replied the clerk. "They should be about halfway through their game."
"Well we need to go out and speak with them," said Tigger.
"Only members are allowed on the course plus there is a dress code," said the clerk.
"We just need to ask them a quick question," explained Tigger. "Can't we go on the course for just five minutes?"
"Absolutely not," said the clerk. "Paying members only. You can wait for them in the parking lot."
"Fuck that," Tigger yelled. "We ain't going to hurt your fucking golf course. We just need to ask someone a question."
"Pay the forty thousand dollars a year it costs to belong and you can go on the course," the clerk shrugged.
"I wouldn't pay forty thousand dollars for one night with Tara Patrick let alone to belong to a shitty golf course," Tigger ranted.
"I sure would pay forty grand for a night with Tara Patrick," Pooh sighed, still digging at his ass.
"If you do not leave I will call security," said the clerk.
Little Piglet stepped up to the counter. Unlike the others she was dressed nicely in designer jeans, a DKNY couture top, and Prada slides.
"Do you know who I am?" she barked.
"You're rude," replied the clerk.
"I'm Piglet Van Krupp and I am heir to the Van Krupp family fortune. I'm a celebutaunte, and if Paris hadn't teamed back up with Nicole for this upcoming season of The Simple Life I would have starred in it."
"Do you belong to this club?" asked the clerk.
"No but I belong to the Country Club in West Bloomfield," Piglet replied.
"Well that's not here so I can't let you out on the course. I don't care if you're Richie Sambora. No membership, no going out onto the golf course."
"Not only for a minute?" Piglet pressed.
"Not only for a minute," said the clerk. "Not even the pope or all the cardinals in the Vatican are allowed on this course without paying their dues."
"Oh dear," Piglet shook her head and stepped back. "I guess we'll have to wait in the parking lot."
"Well I think you're a shriveled ball of scrotum fuck!" Tigger yelled. "Come on let's get the fuck out of this shit hole!"
Pooh had been entranced by the plasma screen TV.
"Let's go Pooh!" Tigger barked. "Get your hand and your head out of your ass, and let's go!"
"Can we eat now?" Pooh asked once they had reached the parking lot.
"Well we're fucked for now," Eeyore said as he lit a cigarette. "There's always a chance we might miss them when they come out to the parking lot. We might never find that money.
"But then you'll die," said Piglet.
"Well it's not like I have much to live for," Eeyore shrugged and took a long drag. "I hope they beat the shit out of Gopher though. I hate that son of a bitch."
Just then Tigger noticed a boy carrying a bag that looked to be the same size and color as Roo's golf bag. He was with two older men. They set their bags down on a rack, and went inside the restaurant.
"That looks like Roo's bag," he pointed.
"Sweet let's get the money," said Eeyore.
"Well I'm not completely sure it's his bag," Tigger replied. A young, pimply, bag boy was sitting by the rack polishing golf clubs. "Piglet, go shake your titties in that kid's face to distract him while I go see if the money is in that bag."
"I can't do that," Piglet squeaked.
"Sure you can," replied Tigger. "If a stripper can figure it out, so can you!"
Piglet had no choice. Gingerly she walked up to the bag boy.
"You got a bag?" he asked.
"I need help with my bags," Piglet replied.
"Where are they?" the kid asked.
Piglet thrust her bosoms forward into his line of vision.
"Right here bag boy," she hissed.
Meanwhile, Tigger strutted over to the golf bag, knelt down, and examined the bag. Sure enough Roo's name was on the tag. He unzipped the front pocket for the golf balls and felt around for the thick envelope. There was nothing, just six golf balls.
Just then another bag boy was heading towards the bag rack.
"Damn it," Tigger muttered. He gave it one last feel, but could not find any envelope. He hastily zipped up the bag and sprung up.
"This one is named Nike, and this one is Reebok," Piglet was saying to the other bag boy while cupping her breasts.
"Come on perv-o," Tigger shot as he grabbed her arm and led her away to the parking lot.
"Did I do good?" she asked.
"Fine," Tigger replied.
"As good as the strippers?"
"Pooh doing a lap dance is as good as the strippers," Tigger quipped. "That's definitely Roo's bag, but the money isn't there."
"They stole it!" Pooh yelled.
"Maybe, but it ain't there," said Tigger. "We need to go into the restaurant and find them."
"They sure as hell ain't going to let you into that restaurant dressed like you are," said Eeyore. "You look like a bum's nut sack."
"Well then we'll send Piglet in," said Tigger.
"I'm in jeans though," Piglet pointed out.
"Yeah but aren't they like four hundred dollar jeans?" asked Tigger.
"Six hundred dollars," replied Piglet. "The sign said no jeans."
"Well can't you go into the pro shop and buy a dress or something? You have plenty of money," said Tigger.
"But it's not my fault you two are in this predicament," Piglet pointed out. "You shouldn't have been playing around with drug lords."
"Any of the cash you need to reimburse for the clothes you can have," said Tigger. "I really need you to do this."
Piglet looked at the club house and then back at Tigger and Eeyore. She sighed.
"I guess I'll do it. I do like to shop. But what do I say? I don't even know who to look for."
"Look for two old farts with a young blond haired boy," Tigger instructed. "Introduce yourself, say you know, Roo's dad, and be up front. Explain the situation. Don't mention the drugs, just say there was an envelope with ten grand in it. It's easier than stripping."