Tuesday, November 3, 2015

The Mulligan


In Cape Cod, a giant alligator snapping turtle the size of a garbage can lid, zealously guarded the 18th hole. When a golfball came sailing in, he'd rise up and open his maw, the golfers chalked it up to bad luck, and forfeited the game. There was no option of putting around him. Some mulligan he was. Prehistoric. Thorny neck and a carapace that looked like steep rooftops. His eyes may have been rheumy, but he sported a sharp hooked beak that meant business, it could snap a putter in two. Maybe it was a she and she thought those golf balls were eggs. And when that snapper opened her maws wide, it was like daybreak, and everybody skedaddled like vampires at first light.

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