Once upon a time there was a rabbit living in Southern France named
Willie. Willie dreamt of being the world's first rabbit golfer.
Unfortunately none of the golf clubs in his neighbourhood wanted him
as a member. And really, what kind of rabbit could pay the annual
membership fee? You have to sell many carrots for that.
But he wanted to be a golfer so much, so most of the day he sat on the
window sill and pondered.
One day a photographer came by and took a picture of the rabbit. The
photographer asked: "Why do you look so sad?"
Willie's answer was: "I am so unhappy. I want to be a golfer but none
of the clubs around here wants me. I really am a good golfer but
nobody believes me."
The photographer said: "Hm, I know some people who are golfers, too.
Not that I know anything about golf but perhaps they can help? Here
are the names and places where they live."
The first name on the note the photographer had given to Willie was
David in London. Surely David would be of much help! So the rabbit
packed his rucksack and up he went, hopping all across France and the
Canal until he arrived in England. Of course you can't simply hop on
an English golf course and look for someone. So Willie went to the
golf club's lady captain and asked for David.
The lady captain furrowed her brows, squinted her eyes and pointed to
the far end of the golf course. "See that tall guy there wearing
knickerbockers, with the salt-and-pepper cap, who holds a whisky glass
in his hand? That's David."
Willie hopped enthusiastically across the golf course. "David, David!"
The tall man who was just taking a sip from his glass coughed.
"What do you want? I am standing here, meditating about the hard life
as a retired man, wondering how I could get that small white ball into
that hole. What do you want?"
"I want to be golfer like you! Can you please tell me what I should
do? No club wants me, I am not allowed to play on any golf course.
Willie tried his usual "making big eyes, waggling the ears, tilting
the head" approach.
David took another sip. David looked over the golf course. It was
raining. This was England.
"I fear you can't play golf in England. Or do you have any knickerbockers?"
"No, I am a rabbit. Rabbits don't wear knickerbockers."
"So ... I am very sorry. Really. But ... do you like whisky?"
"I like carrots."
"Humm. Hummm. Is there some other golfer you might ask?"
"Yes, there is this nice woman in Denmark ... "
"Perhaps you should go and ask her? You see, it's always raining
around here and your fur would get very wet. You are no friend of
knickerbockers or whisky - so there is nothing that might keep you
warm and dry on the golf course ... perhaps Denmark might really be a
better place for you!"
Willie the rabbit nodded. At least this David was a nice guy who tried
to help. He gave the little white ball on the ground a jab with his
nose. The ball vanished into the hole. David said nothing. He smiled
and shook the rabbit's paw.
Willie sighed and hopped away. Denmark was not that far away, with
some little extra hops he would be there before dawn. He hoped the
woman in Denmark could help him.
Hop hop hop. Hophophophophop. Hop.
Denmark was a little bit frightening since there were so many cows
everywhere. As a rabbit you have to be careful with cows. But the
grass was so green. The sky was so blue. And there was the golf
course. And there was Mariann, the golfer. Mariann looked beautiful -
no knickerbockers! Willie was very optimistic. He even had thought of
a present this time: some carrots he found on the way to Denmark.
But Mariann was heartbroken when she had to answer Willie's plea for
help: "You know Willie, here in Denmark we only play golf at night!
And as a rabbit you are nearly blind at night. It even might happen
that some other golfer might hit you. No, I am so sorry, really. Who
else is on the list? Ah, some golfer in Florida who has expertise with
animals on golf courses ... you know what? We will take the carrots
and I'll make a carrot cake. We will have some nice dinner at my place
and tomorrow when I will fly to some fancy place to a fancy golf
tournament I'll put you in my golf bag and you can come with me and
see all these cool women play golf. Afterwards I'll take you to the
airport since you can't hop all the way to Florida, really, and you
can see what's up on the other side of the ocean. How's that?"
What could Willie say? She was so nice. And carrot cake! Huuuuummm!
They had some wonderful time together and even played a round or two
in the twilight of the evening. Next thing was Tenerife. Time flew by.
Willie was a happy rabbit. Living in a golf bag for a while under the
sun in Tenerife - things could be worse. The sangria was fine. But
everything has to end and even if Willie thought about living in this
golf bag for the rest of his life he knew he had to go to Florida.
Willie didn't like the flight that much and hurried over the tarmac
the moment he left the plane. He had been worried about the cows in
Denmark but this right here was another level: alligators! boars!
ducks! crows! chickens!
But where was James, the last one on the photographer's list?
The golf course was crowded with animals. Some golfers hid behind
flag pols, some behind their bags. Willie addressed one of them: "Hi
guys! Ahem. I am looking for James, a brilliant golfer, master of the
golf club. Where is he?"
The golfer gave a shrug. "He left. See - all these animals? The moment
James and his monopod left they came back. As long as James isn't here
to defend the club's members with his monopod there is no chance of
playing any golf on this course."
"Where is James?"
"In Southern France. Where do you come from?"
"Ah, you know, that's where James is every year, fighting the dogs and
stuff with his monopod as he usually does here the rest of the year
and there once was a boar ..... .... "
But Willi wasn't really listening anymore.
So here he was. Should he wait for James? Should he go back home?
Perhaps he might find James there. Should he go to Denmark to see if
there would be some more carrot cakes. He could buy some night vision
gear and play golf in the Danish way. Or should he even buy some
knickerbockers and go back to London?
And while Willie the rabbit was sitting there on a Florida golf course
with alligators and ducks and chickens coming nearer and nearer ...