Sub Par

“Chris, come on.” Ben moaned, adjusting his glasses. Chris said nothing and concentrated on hitting his green golf ball. Ben, Jason and Nick had been waiting almost five minutes for Chris to make his shot. It was the last hole, so it’s wasn’t like this one mattered. “I swear to god Chris. I will make you eat that thing…” Jason threatened, cracking his fingers for emphasis.

Chris, still ignoring his band mates, hit the small ball. They all watched it teeter on the edge of the hole. It stopped moving and stayed on the fake grass. “Shit..” Chris cursed under his breath. He strode over to the ball, carefully placing his club behind the ball. Nick, Jason and Ben still waited, contemplating on leaving him here to finish. Chris was quick with this shot and the ball fell in, bouncing off of the PVC pipe and down into a hub where hundreds of golf balls had came to a rest. His friends sighed. “Thank Christ.” Ben sighed, marking Chris’ number on the paper he held. He grinned, satisfied by his tedious work.

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