
If I were a Rich Man Who Could Write
Stuck. Blocked. A blank square enveloped in a vacuum. Nothingness consumed by voids. Black holes getting chewed up by toothless amoeba. Never give a man with writer’s block a metaphor. Just give him some cash, dear… maybe he’ll go away.
If I were a millionaire, the first thing I would be is fat. We’re talking cartel drug lord fat.
Kayak- gone. Replaced by 24 foot boat the salesman guaranteed would vortex fish out of the Gulf. Boat fitted w ice box, grill and pizza oven. No paddling, lifting, pushing, turning of anything but a button. I’m a millionaire now. You don’t really expect me to do all that anymore, do you? Besides, eating fish has health benefits. You got any gravy?
Golf- gone. Replaced by $37,000 Mercedes golf cart available in Sharper Image. Driven by new caddie, E. Woods. Used to go by another name, but laying low now trying to get back at one with himself. Plus, needs to save his dough for paternity tests. Caddy basically hits ball, drives to ball, tells me how far it is, gets out and hits again, maybe even a couple of more times. He putts everything outside of 6 feet. I putt everything shorter. My new scoring average per round- 13. Walk to green from golf cart total- 100 yards a day. Mr. Trump will also soon be redesigning a couple of courses to suit my needs. What do you mean walk over a bridge to the green? This thing won’t fit on it? I’m a millionaire...get it done. And those water coolers on each tee- gone. Replaced by buffets. Sorry, Donald. Just the cost of doing business with me....
Coaching/ Teaching Professional- Would still coach and teach golf, but have to time manage differently. The new Tom Landry Memorial crow’s nest tower above the elementary school looks sweet. Install one PA system, borrowed from estate of K. Cobain, coupled with recliner and video monitors. Children respond greatly to insults from a disembodied voice from above. Same setup with golfers, except the adult factor changes the game. From recliner, will set phase conjugate gun to stun and shoot any student who doesn’t listen. Won’t kill you; more like a cattle prod. Just letting you know, that you messed up. But can’t really be bothered to get up and tell you that. Because I’m a millionaire. And I’m feeling a little sleepy. Better crank up the A/C in this thing...it’s a little warm on the back of the range.
River Ridge. We pump our pro full of caffeine and stupid and let his cerebral cortex fight it out. Guess who won?
Fairways, greens and one putts.....
Trey Birchum
PGA Head Professional, River Ridge Golf Club
email: tbirchum AT riverridgegolfclub.com