BILL enters
the room, looking over his shoulder, shutting the door and locking
it. In the corner stands a large credenza (the "altar"
could just have a blanket thrown over it). BILL quietly tiptoes
over to that area.
BILL opens the door to the credenza (or pulls the blanket off
it) revealing a set of golf clubs on an altar, surrounded by candles,
golf tees, golf balls, golf shoes.
BILL lights a few candles and kneels in front of the golf clubs.
BILL:
My most precious savior, gracious redeemer, the Titleist of all nations,
I come before you humbly seeking your forgiveness. Lord, my scores
haven't been what they could have. I haven't been spending enough
time on the course, but I ask that you forgive me and help me tomorrow
when I play my boss. Lord, he needs to be humbled, you know that.
A score of 74 or 75 would really do the trick. But it's your will,
not mine. If you think I should shoot an 80, god, I'll take that.
GOLF GOD:
(Voiceover) Do you love me?
BILL looks
around. Where did that come from?
BILL: Who's
there?
GOLD GOD:
Do you love me?
BILL stands,
peering outside.
BILL: Who
said that?
GOLD GOD:
Do you love me?
BILL realizes
the clubs are talking. He falls to his knees (maybe a spotlight
could illuminate the clubs, giving them a holy glow).
BILL: You
speak!
GOLD GOD:
Do you love me?
BILL: Yes,
yes, lord. I do love you.
GOLD GOD:
Feed my instructors.
BILL: Yes,
yes. I will. I'll take more lessons to improve my game. Only the best
golf pros will do.
GOLD GOD:
Do you love me, Bill?
BILL: Yes,
yes, I said I love you. I do.
GOLD GOD:
Tend my courses.
BILL: Lord,
I will. I promise I'll fix every divot that I rip out and repair them
with sand. I will.
GOLD GOD:
Do you love me?
BILL: Lord,
I love you. I've said that. It's true.
GOLD GOD:
Feed my pros.
BILL: I
will. I will go to more tournaments and buy more products endorsed
by your apostle Tiger Woods.
GOLD GOD:
Go and play the courses of every nation, baptizing your ball in every
water hazard and teaching other foursomes the beauty of my game. And
lo, I am with you always, except on the 14th hole of Pebble Beach.
In the name of the Arnold, the Johnny and the Chi Chi. Amen.
BILL: (In tears) I will! I will! But Lord, I have one question. If I serve
you faithfully and play more often, bringing other men with me, will
my score go down?
GOLD GOD:
Look pal, I'm just an idol. I can't do miracles.
BILL: Sorry.
BILL bows
incessantly as he backs out of the room.
Lights
out.