Ace does indeed know, my children. I'll see if I can dislodge him from the Wahini so you may hear...
The Cautionary Tale of the Missionary's Grandson
Once up on a time, a disrespectful lad blamed his poor performance at mini-golf on the many delightful obstacles that abounded in that pre Putt-Putt world. Frustrated, the lad (doubtless the grandson of a missionary) hit this tiki's companion with a golf club, pushing it to the ground.
Taunted by the boy's laughter at this misdeed, the tiki was left standing alone and sorrowful - his leaning posture a testament to the friend he'd lost to the encircling ivy below. Bereaved and brooding, he listened to the reverie of people around him and perceived a suitable curse for the missionary's grandson.
After many years (or awhile, at least), beyond all hope, an urban archaeologist noticed the fallen tiki and called a friend to help.
Upset by the indignity that had befallen the tiki, the two rescued it from the ground.
All was now right with the world.
But what of the rude little boy who upset the tiki lords of the course?
Thereby hangs a macabre tale of crime and punishment. Gather round the foot of the 8-foot tiki and stay close to those you love while Ace continues.
That tiki-cursed lad never left the course, though still alive...if "life" you can call it.
Frozen forever, he is. His one allowed motion a maddening torture of repetition: to swing and to miss.
To swing and to miss...and to glance over to the tikis and the wrong he had done.
To swing and to miss for all eternity, forced to witness the swirl of those who are still human and to endure the laughter that comes with companionship these warm summer nights....companionship that he tried to deny the tikis, and that he himself can never know again.
To swing and to miss...his body subject to the indignities of duck-tape and decay.
To swing and to miss...screaming his silent wooden screams, until one day the ivy takes him too.
Sleep well.
http://www.thelope.com
[ Edited by: tikijackalope 2007-08-23 18:43 ]
