Their round was going smoothly, the Budweiser beers they had purchased at the grill were gone, but the “beer broad” (redneck for beverage cart girl), was doing a good job of keeping them supplied with their cold Clydesdale p**s. They had completed the front nine and were approaching the tee on the tight little par-4, with swampy water hazards on both sides of the fairway, that signaled a reverse of direction, out of the swamp, and heading back to the clubhouse.
These young beer-drinking studs were not playing the white tees (members or old fogies’ tees, as they called them) they were playing the tips, championship tees, blue tees – Big Men Tees! As they hopped off their carts for the tough, tight tee shot Billy Bob shouted, “Hey, look at those two gators locked in a territorial grudge match for breeding rights up on the white tees.”
The gators reminded them of Sumo wrestlers – where the action seemed to move in slow motion. The big gators, who’s ancestry have been around for 37 million years, would grab a leg or the tail then lock their jaws and attempt to roll or spin and rip off a chunk of flesh. Our group of Bud drinkers had moved up to the old fogies’ tee where the action was taking place. The stars of this National Geographic special seemed to be oblivious to the foursome of beer drinkers who were now intently watching the battle for gene pool rights.
The two heavyweights were slowly moving as they rolled off the elevated tee toward the water. As the Budweiser foursome moved closer, Billy Bob leaned down and picked up something lying on the tee, that at this point looked like a D-8 Cat had just driven across. Billy Bob shrieked like a kid who just discovered a second prize in a box of Cracker Jacks, “Hey lookie hear, I just found a tooth that has been broken off from one of those big brutes. It is as big as a shotgun shell. Sure glad he did not clamp those things in my leg!”
“Hey Billy Bob, I will buy you two of those cold Buds next time the beer broad comes by if you will give me that alligator tooth,” Bubba snickered.
“What, are you nuts! I wouldn’t even trade this tooth for a roll in the hay with the beer babe! I am going to have this thing made into some kind of souvenir thingy. I have a friend who knew a guy who had an alligator tooth mounted into a rifle shell casing that he uses for a key chain.”
“Ah, hell Billy Bob come on trade me. I will give you a whole case of Budweiser.”
“Nope, I have seen all kind of trophies and memorabilia from golf courses, you know like hole-in-one things with the ball mounted. But nobody I know has a real alligator tooth that was broken off in a big fight on the golf course!”
Billy Bob carefully wrapped the giant lizard’s tooth in his dirty golf towel and stuck it into his new Ping bag. Dreaming of the alligator tooth hanging from the steering wheel of his big red 4X4 with the straight pipes and the dice dangling from the rearview mirror.
