Jimmy dreaded leaving his car. He sat outside the clubhouse of the Finch Golf Club, which he owned. Jimmy looked for a minute at the construction beginning to happen across the street on old farm land. One thing that made the Finch Golf Club unique was how remote it had been—now that seemed to be ending as well.
The Finch Golf Club’s most unique feature was that Jimmy had arranged for people to adopt holes like you adopt pieces of a highway. Each caretaker transformed their hole into their own idea of a golf hole, leading to chaos and a lot of poor golf.
After the proprietors of one of the holes sued Jimmy for kicking them out, Jimmy turned the tables. He told everyone he would play 18 holes of golf and then decide the fate of the adoption program and their many experiments. Jimmy was now ready to play 18 holes—something he had not done since his dad was alive.
Jimmy sighed and got out of the car, getting his dad’s clubs out of the back seat. Usually, the clubhouse was Jimmy’s domain. He was a restaurateur at heart, but today, he did not even want to check in there. Jimmy just went to the first hole. The course appeared relatively empty, but it was 9 AM on a Tuesday.
No one had adopted the first hole. It was Jimmy’s, so that was straightforward. He played through, not even bothering to keep score, but he did note that someone mowed the grass while he was away. All Jimmy had ever really wanted was for someone else to mow the grass on each hole. Maybe arranging to have the holes adopted was not the best way to accomplish that goal.
At the end of the hole sat a giant structure that looked like a white wooden roller coaster. Previously, big red lights flashed, “Max Megaphone’s Hole Two.” Jimmy noticed that it now just said “Hole Two,” and the words no longer flashed. Confused, Jimmy walked through the arch.
Previously, the entire hole looked like a poorly themed carnival. Max Megaphone was a down-on-his-luck influencer who had tried outrageous stunts on his hole. Jimmy was shocked to see that now it just looked like a golf hole. What happened?
Jimmy noted a wooden sign next to the tee box that said, “Hole Two, Adopted by Max Megaphone.”
So Max still claimed the hole, but he cleared out his desperate attempts for page views? Jimmy did not know what to make of this.
Jimmy’s confusion grew as he moved onto hole 3. The biggest sign in the city used to sit on Hole 3. It read, “Hole 3 is proudly adopted by the Reliable Insurance Group. We’re so reliable, it’s in our name!”
Now the sign was gone and replaced by a similar marker to hole 2. “Hole Three, adopted by the Reliable Insurance Group”. Jimmy noted the group had even cut the grass—a fight he constantly had with the insurance agents who really just liked to come out and marvel at the sign.
Hole 4 featured a similar placard for Chip Green, PsyD—a psychologist who had his office on the course. Jimmy noted that the small office was gone!
Jimmy wondered if maybe his trip away had lasted for more than a week. Perhaps it had been years?
Jimmy had seen enough. He felt that maybe they were all making a fool out of him—time to go back to the clubhouse and make some calls.
Just then, he heard a golf cart coming towards him. Nicktor, who ran the Haunted House on Hole 11, was driving. Parker Walsh, who ran the graveyard on Hole 10, sat in the back with Honey from the Hole 15 Pollen Sanctuary.
“Where are you going?” Nicktor asked.
“Back to the clubhouse,” Jimmy said. “Clearly you’re all messing with me.”
Nicktor groaned and put his head in his hands. “No, it’s supposed to be a slow reveal over a long golf game until you come to a realization about our plans on the 17th hole.”
“Well, just tell me what’s going on,” Jimmy said.
Nicktor sighed, “Fine, get in. We’ll show you.”
The Finch Golf Club is part of a series, you can read other entries here.