My First Golf Dream, By Laura

So, last night I dreamt Jake & Will's dad had loaned me a golf cart during Masters' weekend so that we'd have more vehicles to go back and forth to the course. Which was neat, until I parked the cart in a shopping center and came back to find a group of generally friendly but prank-happy fifteen year old vandals had created some goofy additions onto the cart's logo in my absence. When confronted, they offered to go get some paint thinner or just paint the whole thing over in a solid color, but I convinced them that neither of these would return the cart to an acceptable state. Contritely, they apologized; they'd only been trying to liven up my day, they said. I felt bad for the kids, and decided not to call the police, so I left the cart on Washington Road and went back by foot.

Naturally, my loss of an entire golf cart did not go unnoticed. I hedged for a bit, saying I'd lost track of it, but when asked why I hadn't called the police if it'd disappeared, I finally had to confess where I'd left it. We arrived on the scene to find the once-green cart now painted a dark, dull grey. Still not wanting to get my new friends the juvenile offenders in trouble, I shamefacedly offered to pay for a new paint job. Instead, Jake's dad turned the golf cart into a young dalmatian who was also having some paint-related issues. "White dog with black spots... black dog with white spots," I muttered, 101 Dalmatians-style, while taking down the address of a place called The Dog Wash on Main Street.

Golf Cart Dog and I walked the rest of the way in a light rain that made my shoes slip on the pavement whenever he pulled at the leash. The Dog Wash was a high tech affair with computerized wash cycles. I ordered a Deluxe wash, and was informed that this would involve "a lot of barking." Seeing as the dog in question was, though cute, just a golf cart, I figured this was probably okay.