Hand me my walking cane before I go insane (Leon Redbone )

The end of another year. Most club caddies if they
do the full season walk well over 1000 miles. Thats
like walking from here to Copenhagen every year.
I have calf muscles the size of China...my left shoulder
is like a piece of leather....and I have some weird aches and
pains in most parts of my body. One of the caddies we may
have to shoot since he is so lame.
The culling of caddies is not a good idea however as there
are so few of us left..there is always at least one fatality every
year . This year we lost Tommy Tilletts " shitlips " , a morose
surly small individual who didnt have a good word to say about
anybody...and a man who wouldnt give you the steam of his piss.
What brought about his rather dark attitude to life was hard to
say....but if you were to accompany him on a round you would
inevitably be in a rage at the end of it. If he to start drinking he
could not stop until he was hospitalised. Unsurprisingly he lived
on his own and had few friends . When I was asked why I wasnt
at his funeral I answered ..." Well hes not going to mine ! "
However difficult some of these characters are its odd
that a certain amount of familiarity breeds affection. I was fond of
Tommy even though I was sad that he had never found a way of
enjoying his life. I had long conversations with him about this
subject but he was sure that the gods had shat on him. I suppose
many people see life as a bone crunching hike through a forest.
Many of my customers see life in much the same way. But
its real to them. One of my customers spends most of his time in the
woods, berating me for losing his ball.
" Im not going in there....its dark...Ive got a note from the
caddiemaster....." I plead. To no avail , the ball has to be found and Im
the lad with the responsibility. It sucks....perhaps Tommy was right.
Dear old Tommy....rest in peace