You’ve Got My Balls, and I Want Them Back

Cecil was with his two mates, Alfie and Reg. The three of them were always up to no good. Cecil was the worst of the three.

"Hey, bright spark! We have a hole full of those golf balls. You said it would be fun to snatch them from the golfers at the sixth hole,” said Alfie.

They all snickered as they lay on the floor covered in golf balls. “It was fun,” added Cecil.

“What about that last guy? He was really pissed, he-he-he-he.”

“We could sell them back to the golfers, a dollar a ball. That is a bargain,” suggested Reg.

“We are gophers, idiot. We are not even supposed to be here. Remember, the greenkeepers are always setting traps for us and filling in our holes,” remarked Cecil.

“Good point,” returned Reg, realising what a stupid suggestion he had just made.

“Let’s pack them into the golf buggy exhaust pipes. When they take off, it’ll sound like Bazookas!” suggested Cecil.

“Great idea, let’s get some more,” added Reg.

“Take a look, Alfie, and see if there are any more succours coming our way,” challenged Cecil.

Alfie climbed over the golf balls, sending them tumbling further into the hole. “Hey, watch it, numbnuts,” the other two complained.

“Succours approaching,” cried Alife. The other two scurried up the run and poked their heads out just enough to be able to see.

“I’ll take the one in the red pants, Reg; you take the pansy in the plaid pants; and Alfie, you go for the one in the yellow shorts," Cecil directed.

The three got ready. They waited until all three balls from the golfers were on the putting green. The pansy in the plaid trousers must have been the best golfer because he was closest to the pin. Next closest was the guy in the red pants, and then Alfie’s ball from the guy in the yellow shorts was furthest away.

“I’ll go first,” said Reg.

He scurried out of their hole and grabbed the gold ball in his mouth. It bulged and made his face look very one-sided, much to the amusement of the other two. When he got back, he spat it out, and it rolled down the hole into the pile of golf balls that were already there.

Next was Cecil’s turn. He walked out of the hole like a model. When he reached his ball, he acted as if he was lining it up to shoot.

“Hurry up,” yelled Alfie, starting to get a bit worried they would get caught.

Cecil finally rolled the ball back to the hole, and down it went.

Finally, it was Alfie’s turn. He had the furthest to go. The other two looked on with big smiles. Not for long, though. Right behind Alfie, a golf cart appeared over the crest. It was making good ground for Reg.

“Hurry up, they are coming,” yelled Cecil.

“Forget the ball,” added Reg.

No way Alfie was going to leave his ball behind. He hurriedly stuffed it in his mouth. He was laughing so much that he dropped it several times.

“Hey, give me back my balls,” yelled the guy in the yellow shorts just as Alfie arrived at the hole. He spat it out and watched it roll down the hole into the pile of balls already there.

They hid behind the mountain of balls, snickering and laughing.

Suddenly, there was a gruff voice, “Give me back my balls. I need my balls!”

The three rolled around at the comment until the end of a golf club rudely interrupted their fun. It came close to knocking Reg in the mouth.

“Alfie, grab a ball, run around to the other entrance and throw the ball back onto the green,” suggested Cecil.

Alfie did, but he threw it out with such force that it hit the guy on the shin. He danced around holding his leg.

When he had stopped, he picked up the ball. “That’s not my ball,” he exclaimed, “I want my ball; I don’t have any balls to play with!”

The three laughed so much they were crying.

By this time, the guy had gone to the other hole and was joined by the other two golfers.

“Don’t worry," said one of them. "We'll fix those damn gophers.”

“Time, we got out of here,” said Cecil, who had recovered from his laughing fit.” “First, though, we’ll give them back their balls.”

For the next few minutes, they formed a chain and threw gold ball after gold ball at the golfers on the green.

“Enough,” said Cecil. They ran away and jumped into a new hole. The golfers were left to figure out which balls were theirs.

“I’ve never understood why golfers are so fussy about their balls,” piped up Alfie to the amusement of Cecil and Reg.

“Me either,” said Cecil. “Tomorrow, I think we should try the ninth hole. What do you say?"

[A/n: I wrote a poem last week for a fun little challenge that Denise Lindquist is running in February. The poem is here.

I don't know where this story came from; it is not my normal style, but a bit of fun nonetheless. Definitely visions of Caddyshack!

I hope you get a smile from it.]

Till next time,

Calvin