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On the eighth tee, Danny’s cell phone rang just as Roy was getting ready to
hit the ball. Roy hit another bad shot. He glared at Danny. Danny looked at him
again. “I’m a doctor, Roy. I’m on call for emergencies. What if your great
granddaughter was in a car accident—wouldn’t you be glad I had my ringer
on?”
On the ninth tee, Danny told Roy that Roy had added up his score
incorrectly. “You got a 6 on the last hole, not a 5,” Danny told Roy in front of
the two other golfers in the foursome. Roy recounted out loud all five of his
shots, and told Danny to pay attention to his own score. Danny laughed. “Just
because you’re old doesn’t necessarily mean you’re honest,” he said.
After their foursome left the ninth green, Roy made sure that he got
himself alone with Danny on the far side of the clubhouse. “I’m really tired of
your crap,” he told Danny. “Stand up! Get out of that golf cart. I’m going to
give you a fat lip to match your smart mouth.” Danny didn’t move. “I said get
up!” Roy yelled at him. A couple of nearby golfers turned their heads. Danny
looked at Roy. “Well, if that’s how you feel,” he said, and drove off to the
tenth tee. He said nothing to Roy on the back nine. |
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发表于 2016-7-10 09:21:34