Pet Peeves


By Mark D. Crantz

When I read the Indy story, “City: Bad Cell Service Hindered Sewage Spill Response,” something didn’t smell right. So, as unpleasant as it was, I dug into the story. I discovered that a golfer on the Ben Brown golf course noticed the smell first. He said to his fellow golfers, “You know, I’m a 30 handicapper, but I’m playing like 60 today.” His friends replied, “Yeah. We smell you from here.”

Evere, a 30 handicapper playing like 60, says, “Wait. That stink doesn’t belong to me. It’s coming from that new 30-foot water fountain feature.” A fellow golfer answers, “I don’t remember that hazard. Is it new?” Evere says, “Must be. I‘ve been in every hazard and sand trap here. This is new.” And then proceeds to hit into it. Evere takes a deep breath, holds it to stave off the smell, and goes to find his ball. The five minute lost ball penalty is almost up, along with Evere’s oxygen, when he yells, “Run for it. The stink’s not me. It’s a sewer in here. I’ll take the lost ball penalty. Better than getting dysentery.”

The foursome regroups at the 19th hole. “Let’s drink to surviving the roughest round ever.” The group toasts their survival by imbibing several quick rounds when Evere says, “I think we should warn people about that new 30-foot water fountain feature. It’s over the top. It’s dangerous for fellow golfers.” The scratch golfer of the group says, “Forget it. It’s probably just a new hazard. I read in Golf Digest that golf course designers now are adding smells to courses, like rotten eggs, to break your concentration. “Well, it works. I shot 37 on that hole alone.” The group toasts the worst round ever over and over.

Now in their cups several hours later, their liquid courage is spilling over. Evere announces, “Nope. I’m not taking it any more. An average golfer cannot come back from a hazard like that. That 37 score will haunt me forever. I’ll never shake the yips. Who could? I’m going to warn the public.”

Evere looks down at his cell phone to discover that he has no cell reception. So, he grabs a gas lantern and hops on his electric bike that he traded his Peleton for and rides off to warn his fellow villagers. He screams at the top of his lungs, “One-th by land, two-th by land. Ben Brown smells like a potty. Give up your golf game. Grab your bowling ball. Save yourselves. Run to the nearest bowling alley.”

Months later, Laguna Beach submitted an in-depth report to state water quality officials about the Nov. 27 sewage spill at Ben Brown’s golf course. The technical report blames the 1.87 million gallon sewage spill into the ocean on the Ben Brown golf foursome who debated its severity by drinking too long at the 19th hole.

However, the report ends on a positive note by commending the worst golfer for riding through the village and warning fellow golfers. City officials have announced that the Key to the Digester Building will be awarded next month to Paul R. Evere. A city spokesman proclaims, “His fearless ride saved the day. His call to duty was like it was in his blood.


Crantz tells the Indy that he’s relieved to have found a golfer worse than himself.

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