Tales of Great Fortune XVII - A tale of executive leisure

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
The Great Trenlin, ever in pursuit of success in the business of fortune telling, relaxes during a friendly game of golf against his employee Porric who once again displays unappreciated behaviour.

Submitted: April 16, 2016

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Submitted: April 16, 2016

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"Is it my turn already?"

The Great Trenlin slightly regretted his decision to support Porric's proposal to abandon the daily chess games during the lunch breaks in favour of games of mini-golf. He had clearly felt that it was a bad idea from the very beginning. All signs were undeniable, yet, he, the Great Trenlin, once again had decided to sacrifice his own happiness for the sake of employee well-being.
"Yes, sir."
"Really? Well.. You rush these things far too much, Porric. You would be surprised how relaxed and fullfilled you would be if you could just take it steady and easy. You're in such a hurry that you almost forget to live."
"Sorry, sir."
"It is yourself you need to apologize to, Porric. It is your character that you are breaking down, not mine."
The Great Trenlin took a great swing with his golf club. With an amazing grace, he missed the ball and froze for a short instance in his swinging position. A quick read of his shaking hand taught the Great Trenlin that he would need a couple more practice strikes before he could succesfully complete the course.
 
"You see Porric?"
"Clearly, sir."
The Great Trenlin shook his head in a disproving way.
"You jump to conclusions again, Porric. Please do not consider yourself a gifted fortune teller before the time is right. Arrogance is not one of our core values anymore, remember?"
"Sorry, sir."
"Don't be sorry to me, Porric," the Great Trenlin yelled, "I am the pinnacle of zen. It is yourself that you should be worried about."
 
With another impressive swing, the Great Trenlin just knew that he was about to do something special. With an unsurpassed technique, he managed to drive the ball backwards and thus obtain a much better position on the track.
"Was that another practice swing, sir?"
The Great Trenlin grinned.
"Of course not, Porric. Look at the angle I created for myself. It is exactly the same as the one by which I missed the first hole. This can't go wrong."
 
The swing couldn't have been better. Unfortunately, the underground was deceivingly flat and the ball smoothly passed the hole. The Great Trenlin had clearlly seen it happening and praised himself on his own foresight. He confidently repositioned himself above the ball and took aim. As expected, it was a masterstroke.
"Trying to get that perfect angle back, sir?"
"Of course, Porric. Why else would I reposition the ball right where I came from?"
 
A new stroke followed.
 
"Not rushing things, I guess?"
"Don't be smug, Porric. The ball flinched right before I hit it."
"You missed it by the exact same amount as the first time, sir. You should use your consistency as a tactical strength."
"Consistency?" the Great Trenlin asked, trying not to sound pedantic, "Consistency is a very overrated trait in this ever changing world. A man can never cross a river twice, for it is not the same man and not the same river."
"Oh," Porric sounded surprised, "who said that?"
"I just did, Porric, please pay attention for once, will you? CRAP!"
"Not as you intended, sir?" 
 
A sigh escaped from the Great Trenlin's lips. Of all people, he should have known that he could not outrun fate. The near miss had been written in the stars.
He again repositioned himself above the ball and assessed the situation.
 
"Not looking good, sir."
"Please, Porric, I am trying to focus here. Would you mind?"
A quick statistical calculation taught the Great Trenlin that pure physics was his best friends in this situation. Given a sufficient amount of force, it was statistically highly improbable that the ball would miss the hole. The flight of some small gooze provided additional evidence as an omen. The Great Trenlin felt humbled by the experience and moved his attention towards the ball.
 
"Do you feel it, Porric?" he addressed his employee without looking up, "the time is right to finish this hole."
"The queue that is lining up behind us will be pleased to know, sir."
"Please, Porric, enjoy the moment, will you?"
"Sorry, sir."
"Don't."
 
With another graceful swing, the Great Trenlin made perfect contact with the ball. It quickly became airborn and catapulted via the barrier straight into the next hole. Porric was too surprised to spoil the moment. 
 
With a dignified grin, the Great Trenlin took the booklet to note down the scores. He marked the current hole with 4 strokes and the next hole with 0.
"Your turn, Porric."
"I am sorry sir, but..."
"Don't be sorry for me, Porric!"
"But I am..."
"For heaven's sake... You should really calm down, you know? I mean... what on earth is wrong with you? Stay calm and focus, Porric. I must know I can trust a man holding a golf club when I am bent over."
"Can't you use your crystal ball to make sure, sir?"
 
The Great Trenlin almost suppressed to urge to club his employee to the ground.


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