It was late on a Monday night in the DFO clubhouse. The poker table had been well used on this night. No, not like that, even though BrettFavresColonoscopy had suggested something earlier which….well, never mind. Didn’t matter anyway, as BFC was now passed out, face down in his very small stack of chips.
Brocky, on the other hand, was still trying his best to participate. But weirdly enough, he’d begun randomly disappearing and reappearing in the middle of just about every hand. As a result, it was hard to hear him clearly most of the time, but he did say something about “fucking router” the last time he reappeared. Then he was gone again.
MarcTrestmansWindowlessVan had been here until he decided to take another smoke break. Of course, he’d now been gone for at least 30 minutes. And his smokes were still sitting on the poker table where he’d left them again. That could only mean one thing….
Mr. Ayo: Looks like it’s down to just us then.
tWBS: Yes. Yes it does. So, the usual? No folding, until one of us is dead?
Mr. Ayo: Let’s do it.
tWBS: Side bet? I win, you have to come with me tomorrow?
Mr. Ayo: Come where?
tWBS: Trust me.
For the next half hour, Mr. Ayo and tWBS traded chips back and forth. Sometimes a little, sometimes a lot. Both would eventually go all in and draw into a flush, 10 high, splitting the pot.
tWBS: Well that sucked. All in on next, winner take all?
Mr. Ayo: Yep, sounds good.
Now he’s confident. All in, as planned. The flop and the river gives an additional ace and a pair of sixes.
“Full house…hell yes!!!!“, tWBS thinks to himself as he shows his aces.
Then just as quickly, when Mr. Ayo shows his cards, pocket sixes, it all comes crashing down. Four sixes. Dammit.
Mr. Ayo: CHI****!!!!!!!
tWBS: Hehe, fuck you. Meh, fake money. You’re still coming with me tomorrow, btw.
Mr. Ayo: Where?
tWBS stands up from the table and tosses some sort of printed program onto poker table in front of Mr. Ayo.
tWBS: Trust me. I know a guy. I’ll pick you up in the morning.
The next morning, the two arrive at “The Country Club“.
What??? It’s just a generic country club. It’s fictional, so don’t sue me. (or DTZM either please, k thx).
They grease the palms of a coupla caddies and are soon in the back door (giggity) and traversing the hallways. After a coupla turns, they finally end up in an office, face to face with…
Mr. Ayo: Oh goddammit.
tWBS: Be cool, and trust me.
Man Behind Desk: So you made it through my heavy security, huh? You know they elected me Emperor of the Galaxy last fall, right? And hey, you lied to me. This guy doesn’t look Asian.
tWBS: I never said he was Asian.
Man Behind Desk: It’s the name. But sheeeesh, he’s as white as a turkey club with…Mayo.
Mr. Ayo: THANK YOU!!!!!
tWBS: Holy shit, I just got that. But all I said was we were looking to tee off sometime mid morning, when the Asian gals…
Man Behind Desk: Fine. I get it. And since you made it through my security and into my lair, you must be some kind of ninja I guess. I’ll have the starter fit you in. But it’s gonna be busy.
tWBS and Mr. Ayo (together): We know!!!!!
An hour later on the practice tee, tWBS tees up a ball, addresses it, and rips it. It’s not his best drive ever, but not his worst either.
tWBS: Not bad right out of the bag, huh? Top that.
Mr. Ayo surveys his surroundings and tees up a ball. He swings smoothly, but shanks it badly and it travels almost directly sideways, nearly hitting the young lady three stations away.
tWBS: Wow, that was bad.
Mr. Ayo: Was it? Let’s see….
tWBS: Well, she doesn’t look happy. Don’t embarrass me, man.
Mr. Ayo then walks towards the young lady three stations away and begins talking with her. Within only moments she is smiling. Mr. Ayo pulls a small business card from his hip pocket, jots something onto the back of it, and hands it to the young lady who is now blushing and giggling demurely. She takes it, pockets it, then continues working on her game.
Mr. Ayo then returns to his tee. He tees another ball, addresses it, and with a very smooth and deliberate stroke (hehe)….shanks it again. This time in the other direction and straight across the practice green, again nearly hitting a lovely young lady who is innocently working on her stroke…..
Without saying a word, once again Mr. Ayo walks off in the direction of his errant ball. Once again, within only moments he has his almost-victim smiling. Once again, Mr. Ayo produces a business card, jots something on the back, and hands it over. Then he returns.
tWBS: I think I’d like to subscribe to your newsletter. But you’re not going to keep doing this during the round, are you?
Mr. Ayo says nothing, but only grins.
Almost four hours later, as they approach the final hole, in spite of Mr. Ayo having “accidentally” shanked a handful of shots, the two were neck and neck. Mostly because tWBS really DID accidentally shank a handful of shots because he was busy looking at LPGA asses….errrr lasses. And also because he sucks. And none of his shanks ever seemed to go in the direction of the LPGA lasses.
Mr. Ayo, on the other hand, always seemed to end up suspiciously close to an unsuspecting golf lass. Weirdly, they were always Asian. Perhaps there’s a connection? Hmmmmmm.
And every time….every single time….when Mr. Ayo handed them his business card and walked away, they were smiling.
As the two are waiting to tee off on #18 they are tied. Suddenly, as tWBS is surveying the hole, he gets an idea.
tWBS (pointing): Hey, isn’t that Jenny Shin over there?
Mr. Ayo (dropping his driver): WHERE?!?!?!?!?!?
On the green, two fairways over, Jenny Shin has just hit an approach shot to within 15 feet and is now lining up her putt. Mr. Ayo pulls a three wood and a five iron from his bag and tees a ball up.
Mr. Ayo then hits an expert five iron…to the wrong green.
Mr. Ayo (absently throwing his five iron at tWBS): Here take this, I’ll meet you on the green.
tWBS (evilly to himself): Hehe…now I got you.
Mr. Ayo quickly walks towards Jenny Shin.
Rather than actually tee up a ball and hit a shot off the tee, tWBS jumps in the cart and as fast as he can drives past the 150 yard marker and drops a ball. Meh, it’s Ayo’s own fault, he’s not paying attention. tWBS then hits a beautiful and majestic seven iron which hits just short of the front of the green and kicks into the bunker.
tWBS: Fuck. I can’t even cheat good.
tWBS turns back towards the other green, where Mr. Ayo stands watching Jenny Shin putt. He points out a line to her and, after a brief hesitation, she sinks the putt. Ayo hands her a business card….
…then he walks off the green, drops a ball, addresses it, and knocks the shit out of it with his three wood. tWBS watches as the shot rises quickly, clearing the tops of a small stand of trees by mere feet. As it rises to its apex, the ball draws ever so slightly, and descends. When it hits the front lip of the green and rolls to within 10 feet of the flagstick, tWBS’ chin hits the ground.
Mr. Ayo (shouting from a distance): CHI****!!!!!!! MOTHER****ER!!!!!!!
After Mr. Ayo holes his ten footer….
…and tWBS gets up and down….
….the two end up tied.
Mr. Ayo (pointing): Hey, look. On the practice tee. Isn’t that….
Mr. Ayo: Take a shot, that’s all. I’ve already got a ride back to the hotel, so no worries….
tWBS: How the hell did you….? You know what, never mind. I’ll catch up with you later I guess.
tWBS walks to the practice tee and approaches Paige Spiranac. Awkwardly, he speaks….
tWBS: Ummmmm, Hi. I know you’re busy preparing for this week’s tournament but I just wanted to ummmm…..say I’m a big fan. I love your game and I love what you do with the whole anti-bullying thing and ummmmmmm…..
Paige Spiranac: Hey thanks, it’s always great to meet the fans. And I don’t mean to be rude, but right now I really need to….
tWBS: And ummmmmm…..well, ya gotta eat right? So I was thinking….hoping really….that maybe you’d let me buy you dinner tonight and we could discuss the finer points of….
Paige Spiranac: No offense, Grandpa. But look at me….
Paige Spiranac: …. now look at you. You’d be better off hitting on my mom.
tWBS: Wow, well that response was meaner than I expected. But about your mom….is she like around here somewhere n junk or what?
Paige Spiranac: Go away please before I call security.
tWBS: Sounds about right. But good luck this weekend…sincerely.
Dejected, sort of, tWBS drives back to the hotel and showers. Might as well head to Mr. Ayo’s room, then pick up the rest of the stragglers, and go drinking.
As tWBS arrives at Mr. Ayo’s room, he is immediately struck by the loud thumping music reverberating up and down the hallway. He knocks, and after a moment the door opens….
tWBS moves further into the room….
tWBS (trying to shout above the music): HAS ANYONE SEEN MR. AYO???? THIS IS HIS ROOM AND….meh, fuck it.
tWBS moves to the back patio of the penthouse suite. He steps out onto the deck and….
Mr. Ayo: Hey, you finally made it!!! How’d it go with Paige?
tWBS: About like you’d think.
Mr. Ayo: Meh. Fuck it. Climb in. I’ve got too many to handle.
tWBS: If you insist. I see you mixed some blondes in. Just for ballast?
Mr. Ayo: No dumbass. They’re for you.
tWBS: You are too kind, Sir. How many cards did you give out, anyway?
Mr. Ayo: Let’s just say….”several”. I like variety….
tWBS: Fair enough.