The annual miniature golf tournament was held at Boomers in Palm Springs. This wasn’t much of a surprise; we’ve been playing mini-golf at Boomers for the past several years. Grandpa Dave, me and Daniel all jumped in the truck and drove over, parking between Target and Trader Joe’s. Boomers is a challenging course; at least for me it is. I generally score between five and fifty over par.
Right off the bat, we were handed our color coded golf balls along with a trio of short putters. I thought we should have used pool cues, but I was outvoted. The first couple of holes went pretty well, but then we got to the impossible hole number nine. The idea was to hit the ball into a hole in the center. From there, it would fall into a pipe and roll out onto the green. That was the idea anyway.
Daniel whacked his green golf ball. It rolled into the hole and… nothing. It wouldn’t come out. We kicked the side of the course and tried banging around in the hole with our clubs to no avail. Grandpa teed up his ball and got it in one shot. Two balls came out onto the green: one green one and one red one. Neither of them were Grandpa’s. I knocked my ball into the hole and Grandpa’s came out along with a pink ball. Mine was gone.
“Just how many balls are in there?” asked Dave after we went through this three or four times. Eventually, we did get a combination of green, blue and orange out onto the green. Whether they were really ours or not, I couldn’t say. We didn’t finish the hole; we didn’t want to take a chance.