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  • When I was much younger than I am now, my father used to take my brother and I to the local golf course. It was an entertaining enough place for a young boy. There were long open fields to gaze upon and putting practice to keep me entertained. However, kids at that age seem to find trouble no matter how much entertainment you try and provide them. Such was the case of my brother and I as we started a conversation with an adolescent on the driving range.

    He was a nice enough dude, especially to us children. He and his friend told a few jokes and made us laugh by reenacting a scene from Happy Gilmore in which he rears back his golf club and accidentally hits the person behind him. This of course was faked by the teenager as well, but to our young naive minds it was just as hilarious and believable as in the movie. It was because of this naivety and admiration for the humor of the scene that I attempted to reenact the scene myself.

    Of course, as a child I did not have the restraint to pull back just before hitting my brother square in the head. He cried, I laughed. Then he pick up a golf club and "reenacted" the scene right back at me. I cried he laughed a little. But mostly we were both bleeding, crazy kids that most likely gave two friendly teenagers a heart attack. As gruesome as it sounds though it could not have been that bad. Although I do not remember anything before or after being whacked I am pretty sure we did not bleed to death.

    Today we still laugh, except now without blood or tears (mostly). However there will always be these tiny matching scars that we have on the side of our heads that bind us together as joyful, reckless, slightly dented brothers. And that makes me happy.
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