As Crushner walked up the fairway, searching for his ball beyond the deep rough and tree line, his hatred for the game of golf trailed behind him like a scolded child. As he ventured into the trees, he could see someone coming down the adjacent fairway. His thoughts began to scatter, like an exploding time capsule, followed by an inaudible “Fifty goddamn years of this bullshit!”.
A nearby voice said, “Your ball’s between those two little pines.”
Crushner responded, shouting, “Where?!” But he remained lost as no one ever cared about an old man’s balls.