Caren is an excellent golfer, of course, she is great at any sport she does, and if she isn't great at it she won't do it. She has a great drive and she usually doesn't hit from the women's tees. We go golfing everyday and everyday she smacks that ball down the fairway, and after every drive she says, "Did you see that one?"
And after every drive I reply, "Nope."
Sometimes she hits it off the course and she asks, "Did you see where that one went?"
I reply, "Nope."
One might ask, "Why go, if I can't see the ball?"
I really hate golf. I think watching golf on T.V. is as much fun as watching paint dry. But, I love the time I spend with Caren, and it is better than staying home playing hide-n-go-seek with the dog. Caren has played that course so many times that she could do it blindfolded, so she doesn't have to "concentrate"! There is really no pressure on her because I am the only one that sees (well . . . . knows) what she does. So we can talk the whole time. I think we solve the world's problems by the the sixth hole at least.
The first hole on the nine hole course at Eagle Bend is a par four. It is a straight shot to the green. The green is surrounded by hazards. There are trees to the right and a pond to the left of and behind the green. "It is a nice little pond. It is clean. It is neat. The water is warm and there is plenty to eat." ** The cart path is to the left of the green and follows along the pond, and in that pond there is a nest, and in that nest there is an egg, and the cattails grow all around, all around, and the cattails grow all around. In the trees to left a sound is heard. It's the trill of that damn red-winged blackbird. That blackbird hates me I want you to know. His goal is upon my head to put a peck, or is it the nest he needs to protect. In the trees, that bird lies in wait to swoop down and peck my pate.
Caren gets on the green usually in two. She walks down the left side of the fairway away from the pond. I, on the other hand, have to take the golf path. Everyday I think maybe he won't be there, but everyday he is there . . . . . . waiting. In my own little pea brain I truly believe he is waiting for me. Caren gets on the green in two. I hide behind a tree while she putts. When she is finished putting she shouts, "Okay! Run, Cathy, run!"
Every time I hear her shout, "Run, Cathy, run," I envision the scene from Forrest Gump where his girlfriend yells everyday, "Run, Forrest, run!" I replay the scene in my mind where it shows time passing and Forrest gets older as he runs, and he runs faster each time, and at the end of the scene his braces fall off of him and he is able to run without braces. I see myself zooming down the cart path, the wheels of my chair falling off, me running to the second hole freely with no handicap.
Reality . . . I ZOOM in my chair by the pond. The blackbird swoops out of the tree, flies across the fairway with only one goal in mind . . . . pecking my head! I try to duck which is very funny because I can't duck I can only shrug my shoulders. The bird attacks. I can't smack him because I have to drive with one hand, and I can't raise my hands above my head anyway.
One might ask, "Where is Caren?" She lying on the fairway giggling and between snorts she is shouting, "Run, Cathy, run!" or "Stop, I am going to pee!"
In that pond there is a nest, and in that nest there's a bed of hair, and in that hair there lies an egg, and the blackbird lies in wait, lies in wait, and the blackbird lies in wait!
Paco's Perspective
I hate birds. I don't like it when they are in my yard. The smell of bird repulses me.
The Flip Side
Bird? Did someone say bird? Where? Bird? Where?
I hate birds. I don't like it when they are in my yard. The smell of bird repulses me.
The Flip Side
Bird? Did someone say bird? Where? Bird? Where?
** Yertle the Turtle by Dr. Suess
Hahaha :) Why doesn't it ever swoop down and peck HER head?
ReplyDeleteLoved this one!!!! You are a prolific writer, Miss C!!!! Keep that sassy essay train a'movin'!
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