The inside of a golfball

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Do you remember Irish national school in the early 1990s and it’s messed up punishments? You had lines, you had pages, and of course who could forget the good natured savage beatings from the principle? Ahh those were they days weren’t they?! Those evenings spent riding your bike, playing football with your friends and spending hours playing your Sega Megadrive? Ahh yes, those evenings seemed to go on forever didn’t they? Unless of course the evening was cruelly taken away from you due to a punishment from school.

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On a few occasions I had to stay in to write out lines of “I must not kick the ball at others” or “I must stop being so brilliant at everything all of the time” or whatever it would be. The idea being that you will associate the horrific mental and physical strain of that punishment with your actions…teaching you to never do it again. Seems ok I guess?

However, some classrooms would be “punished” by being given insane titles for essays to see what they would come up with. “A day in the life of a cornflake” or “Where the two roads meet”, this offers you the opportunity to be creative – or in my case – certifiably insane. I would have much preferred to do those than write out stupid lines so I thought why not do it now as a bored 26 year old man with FAR too much time on his hands. So, to that end, I give you…

The inside of a golfball.

Nobody ever expected young Billy Martinez to rise to the heights of professional football. After all he was just the son of a poor Argentinian snake charmer growing up in a town called SlumTastica in the golfball. Billy would spend his days playing with his badly damaged football to stave off the boredom of living in a slum. Billy would invent games by using the bumps on side of the golfball he lived in as targets. There is nothing he could not do with a ball at his feet but unfortunately he would never be able to make it big as his father was unable to afford to put him into the football academy in the next town over – AffluenceVille.

His father, PJ, realised his son had a gift and it burned him up knowing that he could not give him the footballing education on his measly salary of $10, four apples and a swift kick in the ass. PJ would regularly spend his cash on the Golfball lottery trying to change his life but he always lost. This led to his family going hungry night after night and leaving poor Billys dream of the football academy tuition fee in taters.

The next town over was AffluenceVille. The richest, most well built town in all of the golfball. The streets were paved with gold and every store was packed with eager customers blissfully wasting their epic level of disposable income on various colours and shades of the same stuff they already had, the town was booming. However, beneath the affluent surface lay a filthy underbelly. The town was run by one family, the Di Marias, a mobster family headed by Mario Di Maria.

Mario was a ruthless businessman in the underworld… drugs, sex, money laundering, jelly bean bootlegging, property…he had his finger in every pie the town had to offer. People nicknamed him “Super Mario” as he loved to watch his favourite player Mario Ballotelli play in the premier league far outside of the walls of the golfball his town resides in. His nickname had nothing to do with the video game however. In fact he killed his brother Luigi for even suggesting such a thing. His wife Peach was upset with him at first but after he saved her from a kidnapping later that week all was forgiven.

Mario received a letter from Billys father PJ asking for help with the fees. He had never heard of the talented young Billy Martinez in the slums of the next town over and felt it was time to do some good for once in his life. His love for the game of football was legendary in AffluenceVille and this was not the first time he had been approached by a filthy beggar for help with a talented young boy. But after seeing poorly recorded footage his heart grew three times larger…and his pockets were waiting to become deeper.

Mario Di Maria summoned the Martinez family to his town and set them up in a modest apartment within the walls of his sprawling grounds. He gave them a housekeeper, a cook and the best damn jelly beans money could buy. Mario offered to pay for the football academy fees in exchange for a little favour. After all, the golfball mafia were known for there third act twists. As a trade off for the fees Mario wanted young Billy to join him in 2v2 games at the local park. These were no ordinary games however, a lot of money was placed on each game and the 4 richest men in AffluenceVille all had an interest. Realising the chance to bankrupt his rich rivals Mario sprang into action him self and played in goal while Billy won each game single handidly. It was a beautiful relationship. Billy brought in the cash for Mario, his family saw 10% of it and Marios rivals in the property game were losing all of their money. Soon the entire town would be his and his alone.

His rivals were wise to game and needed to act fast. Things were hot hot hot and somebody needed to turn on the air conditioning. At the next game Mario felt a little uneasy. A lot more people were pointing rifles at him this time around and there seemed to be a heaving crowd. At half time Mario was called away to answer a phonecall, a call he was informed was ‘extremely urgent’. It was a clever distraction as it left little Billy Martinez sitting alone on a bench eating his orange wedge amongst powerful men he has been unknowingly ruining financially.

When Mario returned Billy was lying in the middle of the pitch. Both legs were broken and his breath was shortening. Mario was inconsolable as he had placed a large wager on the outcome of the game…a game he was now certain to lose. He hired two of his cronies to tie a cable to each of Billys badly broken legs and continue the game.

Unfortunately Billy was incapable of performing in his condition and they lost. After the game Mario approached the boy…laid him down in the middle of the pitch and shot him in the head 16 times at close range. See, I told you in the first line… “Nobody ever expected young Billy Martinez to rise to the heights of professional football.” What were you expecting?

The End.

I must stop being brilliant.
I must stop being brilliant.
I must stop being brilliant.
I must stop being brilliant.
I must stop being brilliant.
I must stop being brilliant.
I must stop being brilliant.
I must stop being brilliant.
I must stop being brilliant.
I must stop being brilliant.



About thecityfathers

We sit around all day stroking our beards, clucking our tongues and discussing what's to be done with this Homer Simpson
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