Gemotions

He had the list clutched in his sweaty palm. “Learn to play the banjo… Beat that smug bastard at golf.” Dad’s last wishes, etched in ink he’d never get to smear. Mark swallowed hard. He hated golf, but his father… hated David Carter even more.

The next Saturday, Mark showed up at the country club, a cheap banjo case slung over his shoulder, and a set of intimidating golf clubs. He’d practiced all week, the discordant twangs of his banjo echoing through the house. He saw Carter, all tanned and polished, teeing off with a sickening smile.

Mark walked up and placed a bet of 50 bucks. He played his worst golf game ever, deliberately slicing shots into the woods, just so he was close enough to annoy Carter. Then, at the eighteenth hole, he pulled out his banjo and started to play a terrible, off-key tune. Carter’s face was priceless.