I hate it here, l thought to myself as I hefted the bag of clubs out of the back of the golf cart. My shoulder burned as I slung the heavy bag over my shoulder and started down the slight incline towards the waiting golfer.

“Caddy, hurry up. We don’t have all day here!” The bulbous man screeched.

“Coming, sir!” I responded.

“Fuck you.” I thought.

The weight of the clubs swung back and forth as I slowly worked my way closer to the man. He looked exactly like you would expect him to look: too much gut, too little hair, and the worst possible combination of plaid and polo clothing known to humankind. The pay here was good, but subjecting myself to playing servant to the most insufferable members of humanity made me wonder if the compensation was worth it.

“Careful with my clubs, Caddy.” The man stated as I approached.

“Of course, sir.” I rolled my eyes ever so slightly.

He selected his club and paused to look at the nine iron as the metal reflected off the sunlight. He was giving the club a look of satisfaction, almost as if he was proud of the excessive amount of money he had spent on it. I rolled my eyes harder. After adjusting himself and making too big of a deal about lining up his shot, he finally hit the ball. The ball sliced hard to the right and landed firmly in the rough.

“Goddamnit!” The man shouted.

I really hit the lottery today. Not only was he an insufferable prick, but he sucked at golf too. See, when you get someone good at the game, they tend to get through the course faster, and that’s less time that I had to pretend not to hate them. He put the club back into the bag with disgust and too much force. I let out a slight groan as the force of the club impacting the bottom of the bag tugged my shoulder.

“Come along, Caddy!” The man barked as he half walked half waddled his way to the cart

I didn’t respond but sighed as I turned to follow. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep this charade going today.

Hours, that’s how long I had to continue to bite my tongue and obey this man’s orders and demands. He wasn’t just bad; he was horrible. Every shot ended its journey in either the rough or a trap. At one point, I had to get more balls because he managed to sink an entire bucket of them into a single water trap on the 7th hole. The amount of cursing at me and about me only worsened as he continued to mess up every single shot he took. I was under no delusion about getting a tip today.

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My back was on fire from the constant picking up and putting down of the clubs by the time we finally reached the 17th hole.

“Almost done.” I thought to myself as I half carried half dragged the bag of clubs across the grass to the putting green. All this guy had to do was finish this hole, and then it was on to the final one. The 18th hole had a notorious water trap, so while he was struggling with the sand trap on the 10th hole, I made my way back to the clubhouse and grabbed two buckets of balls, just in case. After ten-plus attempts, he was finally able to get the ball into the hole. There was no celebration or victory dance, this man sucked at this, and he knew it. He quietly picked up his ball, glared at me, and sat in the cart. I sat awkwardly next to him as we made our journey to the final hole. We hadn’t spoken beyond him barking orders and me responding “Yes, Sir” since the game started. There was no point asking him about the wife and kids now.

The final hole went as well as the rest of the day. He’d shoot, mess up, curse me out, and I would stand there and take it. That’s what I was paid to do, after all. As we approached the infamous water trap, I grabbed the two extra buckets of balls from the back of the cart and settled in for a long wait.

“Splash, splash, splash.” It went exactly as I predicted. I could see the golfer getting visibly redder as shot after shot went to its watery grave. I couldn’t help but smirk as the man grew increasingly agitated with every failed attempt.

“Something funny, Caddy!?”

“N…no, sir.” I stammered. I hadn’t realized he saw me laughing as the final ball from the second backup bucket sank into the murky depths.

While he stood fuming, I turned towards the cart, preparing to make the long journey back to the clubhouse; this time, I was getting four buckets.

I was attempting to return the nine iron to the bag of clubs when the accident happened. There was no warning, verbal or otherwise, as the impact struck my side. I could hear a loud crack as the golf cart struck me. Waves of intense pain washed over me as I fell backward towards the water trap. My vision was blurred, but I could make out a man getting out of the golf cart that had hit me. There didn’t appear to be a sense of urgency in the man’s step as he approached me. I could almost make out a slight smile on his face as I plunged backward into the water. My head was foggy, but I could tell I was sinking deeper into the water.

I didn’t remember the lake being that deep. I thought for a second before I realized the depth didn’t matter. I just had to get out before I drowned. I tried to swim, but a sharp pain shot through my side as I moved my left arm. My rib was cracked, if not completely broken. Winching, I continued to swim the best I could with my injuries. I was becoming disoriented, and my breath was running out. At this point, I didn’t know which way was up.

“Why had no one bothered to try and pull me out?” I wondered as my vision started to fade and my lungs burned.

The world faded away to nothing, and I coughed. Water sprayed from my mouth as I continued to cough and hack. The air came sharp and fast as the water left my lungs; they still burned, but almost in a good way. As my breathing labored and returned to normal, I slowly opened my eyes. I was lying on my back next to the lake, staring at a blue sun, and a small child-like face stared back at me.

“My name is Tee. Welcome to the Caddyverse!”