Sound the Alarm

I don't know about you, but when I see a tornado rolling in on the horizon, I usually take my kids to play putt-putt.

You can almost guarantee that when I lay a plan, an actually well-laid variety, something always happens to screw things up. It was a beautiful day in these parts. Sunny, no wind, not too hot. Then we showed up to play. In roll the clouds, up kicks the wind, and down comes the rain.

Nothing was as bad, however, as a little mishap in the "clubhouse". at about the halfway mark Mason had to use the restroom, of course. So we marched back into the small shop. As soon as we stepped into the bathroom the boys started gagging, hooting, and hollering that the placed stunk. It did. It was really disgusting in there, as if we had followed onto someone's alone time -- my money is on the lone man who was running the putt-putt course.

They were actually yelling comments like, "Get me out of here." and "We're going to die, let us out!" Yes, that dramatic. When we all tumbled out of there in a big hurry we practically landed at the feet of the man who surely left behind the cloud of funk. Fun.