IS THAT RIGHT?

We’re sittin’ around, having breakfast in the Grille on a normal Sunday morning. The ‘Thugs’ as we call ourselves, are sixteen golf buddies who drink a lot of caffeine coffee, laugh and make up the pairings for today’s private tourney. The four time slots are arranged on Saturdaysthroughout the golf season, May 1 thru Sept. 8. Our Grille tables (2 round ones in the corner) are known as The Thugs Table. Invisible words are added- ‘Don’t you dare take these tables.’

This morning a non-thug approaches us. ‘Hey, Guys, have you seen those men along the 3rd and 4th holes?’ Together we shake our heads ‘no.’ ‘Well, I did,’ Donny tells us, ‘and we may be in for trouble. The boss said they are going to offer the club a deal so they can plant mulberry trees along the fence.’ ‘What’s wrong with the trees and flowers we have now?’ Other thugs chime in, ‘Yeah, what’s wrong with what we have?’ ‘’They told me they think they can grow silk worms here. Georgia’s climate is perfect. The club will profit and they will too. They are not kidding.’

‘Holy cow, Guys. This is preposterous. We can’t have workmen growing trees and worms on our course!’ Willie, the Thug president, stands, addresses both tables. ‘I will make an appointment Monday to meet with the Board president and stop this idea from going any further. Leave it to me. Donny go away, we are doing our pairings. Sorry, we have no vacancies.’ He goes away from us but manages to stop at every table to warn our fellow members of what may be happening. Another idiot replaces Donny, stops by to suggest we check this out. The Club can use extra cash so maybe we wont get another assessment this year.

Willie takes our pairings to the pro shop for our time slots. We’re lucky today, start front and back simultaneously, in 30 minutes, or as close to that as possible. In the meantime nobody mentions silk worms. Our Calcutta tourney is only a few weeks away and that is top priority conversation–after we decide what to do about Pakistan and N. Korea. We all agree, one more threat from N. Korea and we nuke them.

The Thugs play golf and have a damn fine time. My foursome comes in on the brown end of the stick. We each put in ten bucks for the two top teams. Win some, lose some. Nobody cares.

The locker room is busy. Tongues are even busier. The rumor of silk worms growing on our fairways has spread like an arsonist’s gasoline fire. Some guys don’t like worms. Sadly I say, some guys don’t like Chinks around. Some don’t want us to become a commercial entity. There are lots of reasons we should not go ahead. Only Donny pushes for further investigation.

Buzz, buzz. There’s a notice on the bulletin board. My team goes to the door together. In all caps. It reads:THE MULBERRY STORY IS AN UNFOUNDED RUMOR. THERE ARE NO MEN ON THE COURSE WHO DO NOT BELONG HERE. THE STARTER OF THIS RUMOR WILL BE CALLED BEFORE THE BOARD WHERE APPROPRIATE ACTION WILL BE TAKEN.

Regretfully, the assessment amount previously announced is insufficient. The increase will appear on your next statement.