I don’t know about you, but trying to get the ball in the hole is the thing I hate most about golf. Granted, it is the object of the game, but the real joy is in hitting the ball on the "sweet spot" and watching it fly. The camaraderie, fresh air, and escape from reality are nice too, but the "short game" has to go. I know I’m not alone in feeling this way because the latest research indicates that angry golfers break, throw, and lose their putters twice as often as any other club in the bag. Coincidence? I think not.

Golf is supposed to relieve stress, but if you’ve spent much time on those altars of short green grass where men pray in earnest, you know that’s just not the case The responsibility of getting the ball in every single hole is a necessary evil. At best, an excuse for hitting it in the first place which is exactly my point.

Ideally, golf is a fantasy game which is played in a land that is green from coast to coast. There are no office buildings in golfland, and cement is nearly non-existent. Grass of varied textures and cut grow everywhere, and the temperature is always a comfortable 85 degrees. There are also some hills, very small ponds, and the trees are of the 80% air variety.

Imagine the delight of hitting your best drive, enjoying a long walk to your ball, and teeing it up to drive again. You could repeat this procedure over and over until you reach some prearranged destination, or you could just decide to golf your way to the grocery store. How many strokes do you think it would take to go from your house to work, a friends place, or a neighboring township? This variation would be known as Cross Country Golf, but that name would only describe a short game of under 30 miles. A longer version would be called Interstate Golf, but would require much more time and could only be played by people of great stamina.

The holes would not be the only annoyance eliminated by this innovation. There would be no need for starting times, green fees, waiting for slower players, and you wouldn’t need a bag full of equipment. One good driver, some balls, and a couple of tees would suffice. On an overnight game, you might want to bring along a sleeping bag and, (speaking from a practical sense) a good pair of hiking boots would be preferable to the standard golf shoe. No loss there.

The equation to calculate mileage to par is very simple. 250 yards is an average drive for most amateurs. That means it would take approximately 7 strokes to go a mile. The distance from Las Vegas to San Diego is roughly, (no pun), 280 miles. This means that par is somewhere around 1960 strokes. Sounds like an adventure doesn’t it? Imagine for a moment the jogging version of this game. That would be called Hit and Run. Takes your breath away, right? As an Olympic event, it would be comparable to Cross Country Skiing. The downside is that the Russians probably have guys who can hit the ball a ton and jog across small continents.

In a sane world, this might all sound enchanting, but there is probably no danger that this style could ever replace the existing format. Heaven knows there will always be masochists who enjoy that kind of aggravation. Anyway, I’m sure there is some obscure law that prohibits driving golf balls across state lines without license, registration, and proof of insurance.
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               Pencils, Pens, and Friends

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    This is the way our school looked when it was first built. That was in the old days when the first settlers came here looking for gold. Some of them had children, and they knew that a good education was important. So they built the school and hired a teacher named Mrs. Southpoint. It was easy to remember her name, because that was also the name of the town way back then.

(1.

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Back then they didn=t have a computer lab, television sets, or electric lights. You already knew that.

They also didn=t have air conditioning! Could you imagine that? The students didn=t have pencils. Do you know what they did about that?

(2.

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All of the students had a little chalkboard at their desk. These were called slates. The children used them when Mrs. Southpoint wanted them to write something.

This worked fine, except the slates were school property so the kids couldn=t bring them home at night. This meant that the teacher could never give them any homework.

(3.

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The children worked very hard in class. They learned to read. They heard about new inventions, and saw pictures of dinosaurs in Science class.

Every morning, they worked on Math, and in the afternoon, they wrote stories and learned to spell. This was their favorite time of day because they loved to write about the things they dreamed of. Sometimes they would even draw pictures to illustrate their stories. It was a great way to end the school day.
 
 

The children would go right home after school each day. Some had to feed and milk the farm animals. Others would sweep and help clean the house. Still others were supposed to help with the cooking. They all had chores to do before dinner.

After the family finished their meal, there were also things that the children had to do, but these were usually done pretty quickly. Then they would sit by the fireplace and read or tell stories with their family.
 
 

The parents loved to hear about what the children had learned in school too. They wanted the children to bring home some of their work, but everything was written on the slates and they had to stay at school.

(5

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The people who were in charge of the school knew that the parents wanted the children to bring some school work home. So they ordered pencils for all the students and enough paper to fill a covered wagon. They also bought an ink pen for Mrs. Southpoint so she could fill out report cards and other important things.

 There was only one problem. In all the excitement, they forgot to order a pencil sharpener. This wasn=t so bad except the company that made sharpeners was located in Pennsylvania and it would take a month for them to send one. This was not good news for the parents, but it made the pencils very happy.

(6.

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Our school has always been a special place where anything is possible, but what happened next was pure magic. That night, when the lady who swept the classrooms finished work and went home, the pencils all stood up and began to dance. They were all singing at the top of their lungs, but it wasn=t very loud because pencils don=t have a larynx like humans. A pencil=s shout is just a whisper when compared to ours.

Their leader=s name was Woody. He was a yellow number 2 lead pencil. They were all yellow number 2 lead, but Woody was a little shorter than the rest. This meant that when the others were looking down on an object, Woody was looking up. No matter what the situation, Woody always saw things from a different angle. This was sometimes very helpful in solving problems, so the others all agreed that he should be their leader.

(7.

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The pencils had a good life at our school. They were all still unsharpened, so no one could write with them. It was a real life of leisure. They spent the days laying around on the desktops, and at night they played pencil games.

Mrs. Southpoints pen wasn=t quite so lucky. She was a hard worker. She started using her pen right away. It seemed like she was always writing, and the only time her pen got any rest was when she forgot to bring it home with her at night. The only problem then was that the pencils wouldn=t let the pen play with them.

The pencils didn=t like the pen because he was different. They were made of wood, a spongy pink eraser, and had nice soft lead. The pen was made with all metal parts and was filled with a black chemical called ink. The way the pencils saw things, the pen was more of a machine than anything else and couldn=t possibly have any feelings.

(8.

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 One day, a wagon arrived at the school. It carried supplies that Mrs. Southpoint needed for the class. She had ordered a big book of stickers, some colored chalk, a few chapter books, and a super deluxe pencil sharpener.

That afternoon, the maintenance man installed the new sharpener right on top of Mrs. Southpoint=s desk. When he was done working, Mrs. Southpoint gave each child a pencil of their own and a journal to write in. By then, it was almost time to go home, so she told the students that they would sharpen their pencils the following morning when they first got to school.

(9

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The pencils spent that whole night wondering what it would be like for them now. After all, this was an elementary school. Pencils usually don=t last longer than a few days here.

In elementary school, pencil life is calculated at about 10 years per day. That means a new pencil on Monday is about 50 years old by Friday. This is because young children sometimes sharpen pencils too often, and sometimes for no reason at all.

Woody called all the pencils together for a meeting. He said, AWe need to come up with a plan. That sharpener looks pretty mean. Does anyone have a suggestion?@ All of the pencils started talking, but no one could think of anything. The only thing that they knew for sure was that this was not good news.

The pen wished he could help. He knew the pencils didn=t like him, but that was only because they didn=t understand how much they had in common. After all, they were all writing tools weren=t they? He just knew that if he could help the pencils now, they might get to know him better and become friends.

(10

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When the school bell rang, the children lined up in front of the classroom. They wanted to sharpen their new pencils and start writing, but first they had to say the APledge@ and take lunch count.
 
 

Finally, after what seemed like an awful long wait, Mrs. Southpoint said, ANow it=s time to sharpen your pencils for the first time. Remember to hold them firmly in the slot and only turn the handle 3 times. Oh yes, there=s one more thing..... only pencils go in the sharpener.@ She mentioned this because some children might not know how to use the sharpener properly.
 
 

The children were very anxious, but they weren=t the only ones. The Amonster@ was hungry. He couldn=t wait to pounce on one of those tasty looking pencils. He knew that number 2 lead was very nutritious, and yellow was his favorite flavor. He was very anxious to get started.
 
 

The pencils were anxious too, but not in the same way. Most were wondering if there was any hope at all. They were anxious to find out what their future would be like. Right now, it didn=t look bright.

(11

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The big moment had finally arrived. Mrs. Southpoint said, ARow one, you may sharpen your pencils.@ The children formed a line at the sharpener. Some of the boys had hurried to be first in line, but then had decided to let the girls go first.

The pencils shouted, ANO CUTS!!@, but no one heard them. The first pencil was thrust into the sharpener=s jaws and ground to a fine point within seconds. The monster roared as it chewed the wood down to slivers. It seemed to have some sort of power over the children. They would turn the crank 3 times, (just like Mrs. Southpoint had said). Then some mysterious force would take control and force them to turn the crank again and again.

4, 5, 6.... sometimes 96 times.

By lunchtime all of the pencils had been sharpened at least one quarter of the way down. If this kept up, the pencil=s lives would be half over by the end of the day.

The children returned to the classroom after lunch and got ready to start their lessons. Mrs. Southpoint said, AClass, I have a surprise for you. There is a rodeo in town today, and we=re going there this afternoon on a field trip.@

The children always enjoyed the rodeo. A rodeo in town meant that they would have steak and hamburgers in the school lunchroom for the next month or so. They were very excited.

The pencils didn=t care about the rodeo, but this was a lucky break and they were happy for the moment. The sharpener was disappointed, but he had eaten his fill and could easily hold out until everyone was gone that evening. Then he would climb down from the desk, devour a few pencils quickly, and spend the rest of the night snacking at his leisure.

(13

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The children got into the bus wagon and were soon on their way to the rodeo. They got back to school just in time to clean up, get their backpacks, and line up to go home.

(14

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The lady who cleaned up the classrooms at night looked at her watch. It was 10 P.M. and time to go home. Before she left, she took one more look around to be sure everything was done. She was nearly out the door when she remembered that the pencil sharpener needed to be emptied. She was in a hurry, so she poured it into the wastepaper basket and ran out.

The door had barely shut behind her when the sharpener shouted, AYahoo!! This is what I=ve been waiting for! My belly is empty, and hunting season is here!@

The pencils shook with fear. What could they do? They=d better come up with something quick because the monster was preparing to dismount. Just then, Woody came up with a plan. He said, AMaybe we should try to make a deal with the sharpener. Let=s send two of our best negotiators to talk with him. Maybe we can work something out.@
 
 

( 15

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Well... that was the plan, but the sharpener had something else in mind. The two pencils approached him and began to speak, but he only pretended to listen. When they finished, he said, AI=m sorry. I couldn=t hear you very well. Would you please come a little closer and speak up a bit?@ The pencils took a few steps forward, but before they could say a word, the monster sprang into action. He swallowed them whole.

Spitting out their erasers he snarled, APencils are so dull witted. On with the feast!@ The sharpener leapt from desk to desk eating the pencils. There seemed to be no stopping him. At about 2 A.M. he started to feel full and decided to take a rest.

The moon was full that night, and it=s light was shining through the window and lighting up the top of Mrs. Southpoint=s desk. Woody climbed up there because he needed a better vantage point. He also planned to read the manual that came with the sharpener in hopes of finding a weakness.

(16

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The manual contained instructions for simple maintenance and repair. It also included a page on trouble shooting and precautions. Woody read this section with extreme care. After all, if the instructions said not to do something, it must be something that was bad for the sharpener. It might even be something that would break the sharpener.

Woody was so interested in his reading that he didn=t even notice Mrs. Southpoint=s pen looking over his shoulder at the manual. The pen was still hoping to find a way to help the pencils and he could see that this book held some real possibilities.

The pen was a much faster reader, but he was very patient while waiting for Woody to turn pages. When they got to the last page, he finished quickly and was on his way. The pen thought he had an idea, but he needed time to prepare a trap.

(17

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First he went to the ink well for a fill up. The desert around our community is very dry and he couldn=t afford to be dehydrated at a time like this. If his plan were to succeed, he would need to watch his fluids.

Just then, the sharpener leapt onto Mrs. Southpoint=s desk. Woody had been so interested in his reading that he hadn=t noticed the monster=s movement. The attack took him completely off guard. The sharpener roared as it=s mouth opened to eat the little pencil. Woody stood frozen in fear. All he could see was the sharpeners fangs. They were like huge knives. The monsters machine oil breath was sickening, but Woody couldn=t run.

The sharpener lunged forward, mouth wide open. At that moment, the pen dived into it=s mouth tip first. The monster had no taste for pen and shook his head in disgust. But before he could spit it out, the pen emptied a full load of ink into the sharpener.

(18

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The ink seeped into every nook and cranny. It mixed with the pencil shavings and made a thick goo that jammed the sharpener=s gears. The sharpener tried to cough up some of the ink, but the damage was done.

By daybreak, the ink had dried and the goo had hardened. When Mrs. Southpoint arrived, she found the sharpener laying on it=s side. She picked it up and noticed that the crank wouldn=t move. Try as she might, she couldn=t get the crank to turn, so she tried washing it out with soap and water. That only caused the insides to rust. Now the only thing left to do was throw it away.

When the children got there, they were disappointed. They got out their slates, started writing, and soon forgot all about the sharpener. That afternoon Mrs. Southpoint wrote a letter to all the parents. It said;

(19

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            I am sorry to inform you that the climate in our area is

            very hard on pencil sharpeners. For that reason, I have

            decided that this technology is just too advanced for us...

The letter said a lot more, but that was the most important part. Mrs. Southpoint had decided that it would be foolish to waste any more time on this matter and wanted the parents to know that she wasn=t planning to replace the sharpener.

(20

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That night, the pencils held a giant celebration. They were all dancing and singing when Woody noticed the shadow of a figure that was standing off at a distance. He shouted, AWho is that? Can I help you?@

The pen stepped forward shyly, but before he could speak the pencils all ran to great him. They begged him to join in the celebration, and of course he accepted. This was all he ever wanted.

From that day on, the pencils treated the pen as one of their own. The more they got to know him, the better they liked him.

Yes, things worked out very well for the pencils and the pen. He learned their games, sang their songs, and eventually married a nice girl pencil named Leddy. They were very happy together, and soon they had a whole family of little mechanical pencils which only goes to prove that our school is a very special place indeed.

21)

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