A Tale of Two Holes:
A Viking Invasion of The Croydon Cyclone
by Bogi Bjarnason
- It was the best of putts, it was the worst of putts. Shorn of upshots, robbed of hole-outs, I tremble in silence and roar in righteous outrage. The Cyclone become center chains to choking on bile, and a run of chastity belts into the distant oblivion.
Hole 10 is a birdie-like gift wrapped in a snare wrought out of feathers plucked of off the clipped wings on the Lloyd Park parrots. The same godforsaken birds that haunt my dreams at night like a shrill reminder of park jobs wasted and a shrieking foreboding of the useless PJs to come.
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