The B-Boys (Brooks, Barney, Billy and Baron) springtime golf trip to the panhandle of Florida has become an annual event for four brokers from Minneapolis.  The B-buddies were sucking down a few malt beverages prior to departure. 

With another gulp from a lager glass the size of a wash tub Barney exclaimed, “I love those four golf courses at Sandestin Resort, they provide plenty of variety.  With views of the Gulf of Mexico and playing along Choctawhatchee Bay, water is ever present.”

“Barney, please don’t be remiss.  You fail to embrace the profusion of fabricated ameba-shaped lagoons that frame every hole like a fine work of art?” the articulate Baron pontificated.  “Sandestin incorporates an immaculate medley of architect created water perils that were molded into 72 unrepeated splendid golf holes.”

“Cut the crap Baron!  Those are just holes left where the dozers dredged fill to make the fairways.  Over time they filled with water. 

Brooks interrupted, “I will tell you B-Boys one thing, I did bring my small travel fishing rod.  Remember last year, all those big bass and palm sized sunnies the guys staying in the cottage next door caught in the pond between us and the fairway?”

Billy tipped his glass up and sucked down the final amber drops.  He gave a small belch and wiped the foam from his lip with his sweater sleeve.  Then he said, “By the way I got that same townhouse reserved at Izatys for the walleye opener.  Be sure to budget more money for this year’s trip, leeches could be $6 per dozen.”

Baron flinched as he said, “My word, that is an exorbitant sum.  By my calculations that is $.50 for each of those Mother Nature’s lowliest creatures.”

“You are buying the beer Baron,” Billy chuckled.  “Calling the best walleye bait that God ever created, Mother Nature’s lowliest creatures and don’t use your damn calculator to figure the tip!”

With little practice during the long winter, the B-Boys filled the “profusion of fabricated lagoons” with new Pro-V1s during the first round on the tough Raven Course.  The second day, on the Links Course, Baron’s ball retriever (that he refers to as a stellar investment) was passed from player to player as the supply of ammunition was running short.  Only a few of the precious round objects were recovered.

As they stood on the 8th tee Baron chirped at Barney, “Let your eyes assimilate the expanse of each element of this imaginative creation.  The island fairway creates an emerald green ribbon framed with heavenly blue lagoon on the left and the golden-green swamp grass on the right.  Those two skyscraper palms form goal posts-like targets behind the checkerboard green.  The expanse of Choctawhatchee Bay in the background generates a look into infinity.”

Barney sounded like an echo chamber, “Damn it Baron, cut the crap!  What does that kid rooting-out golf balls in the swamp grass add to that Picasso?”

Billy whistled the kid to attention as he watched the B-Boys hit their tee shots.  Two B-Boys shouted, “Fore!” as their golf balls were magnetically drawn to the kid in the swamp grass.

As the B-Boys stopped their carts the kid, with adolescent sized nose and pimple-laden chin, smiled exposing his beautiful white teeth, threw a Pro-V1 onto the fairway.  With a slow very southern drawl, he barked in a deep voice, “I got y’all’s Pro-V1s with the red dot, but I could not find the other one.”

Billy reached into his pocket and pulled out a $5 bill.  “One of these dollars is for the red dot Titleist; let me see what else you have in that plastic bucket.” 

The kid’s smile widened.  “I have mostly Titleist Pro-V1s and Callaway’s for one dollar each,” he said as he stepped out of the swamp grass.

Barney gasped as his eyes were drawn to the feet of the pimpled-faced kid.  The kid followed Barney’s glaze to his feet.  He froze, then dropped his bucket of balls and started dancing and kicking as he shouted’ “Blood Suckers!!  I am going to die!”

Barney, who has boys about the kids age, got off the cart and said, “Just relax son I will take care of those leeches.  You are not going to die.”  Barney reached into his money clip and retrieved his driver’s license.  Then held the shaking kid’s foot as he carefully scraped 8, walleye-bait sized, leeches free.  Several bite marks had small trickles of blood oozing.

Barney said, as he handed the kid twenty bucks and the empty bucket.  “Here’s $20 for all your balls son.  Take your bucket and head on home.  Have your mom put some peroxide on those bites.  You will be good as new in a day or two.”

As the kid was walking away, Baron stated with a smile, “That adolescent boy would generate more revenue collecting leeches for the Walleye Opener!”