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*****
Alice wanted them re-rated to "X." X-Out, that is. Two brand-name balls in their own bag, under one whimpy club. Well, the balls are not exactly "name-brand," more like "name-branded-on." If you looked at them in the mirror they would say "Titleist," but when you look at them straight on they say "tsieltiT." The cryptic letters are the name-brand imprint from the back of her seven iron. ***** He was always standing right behind her, aggravatingly too-close -- a peripheral, proximal, omni-present distraction. "Turn adversity into opportunity" -- words of wisdom Alice tries to live by. Her own advice came back to her during her backswing. As she addressed the ball, she raised the seven iron low and slow. Quickly and deftly, she then shifted her take-away to practice mode as she shuffled her stance backwards at the same time. For all appearance, she was just getting in groove, zoning into perfect alignment in her sphere of concentration. Picking up momemtum as she lifted the L-flex graphite shaft, Alice blasted the titanium-headed iron into his low-hanging scrotum. As she made solid titanium-to-testicle contact, she ironically recalled that a seven-iron used to be referred to as a "mashie." She mashied them gonods for good. Trapped in pain, he fell down hap-hazzard. Bunkered down to sleep it off, the sandman spoke to him. "Your fault, asshole!" ***** Eighteen empty shot glasses were lined up in front of her bar stool as she turned in her card and cooled off at the nineteenth. Everyone who saw her mash the asshole's balls had bought her a drink to salute her ballsy move. Everyone in the country club agreed with the sandman: "He is an asshole!" ***** She makes her money on the golf course. In Georgia, she was a well-known master. All over the U.S. and Great Britain she has been opening her hole for cash. This is the tenth major venue where she is the club whore. She is tolerated for two reasons. One, she almost always shoots the low score. Two, all the male golfers-in-lust have to do to score with her is to beat her at her own game. When they lose, they open their wallets and pay off. If she were to lose, she would open her twat, and that would be that. She keeps the women members happy and off her case by giving them professional instruction. Not golf instruction, but the really-valuable and really-hard-to-find Castration Instruction. ***** Lately, the ladies are prepping for the husband-wife tournament. I should mention that Alice inherited her athletic ability from her grandfather, Ty Cobb. She inherited his sharpness for competition too. Just like Ty used to grind and sharpen his spikes to scare or snare a second baseman or shortstop trying to fend off one of his famous steals, Alice helps all the ladies grind and sharpen the steel of their L-flex seven irons. Come next weekend, a shitload of husbands won't be cuming no more. Although the tournament results will force Alice to "de-part" to new links to make her living, the now-famous sliced-by-a-hooker move will be copied by a couple dozen wives, and there will be lost balls all over the fairway. Some will make nice meals for the birdies, but most will be found by the grounds crew on Monday. And mostly at about 120 yards out. ***** ***** ***** ***** Let Classy Bitch shoot par with your pair.
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