My problem with Golf is that I'm Always Standing Too Close to the Ball After I've Hit It.

 

Some of you may wonder where this rivalry began between the Evil Dr. Monkerstein and I began. I was on a special Ape City assignment, on loan to Her Majesty's Secret Service, and I was sent to investigate the Monkerstein Power Pagoda. I was undercover as eccentric millionaire Al Czervik, a prospective buyer for the Bushwood Country Club.

My initial investigation led to a high stakes bet on a game of golf between Dr. Monkerstein, the foul Neoconservative Judge Smails, CIA agent Ty Webb and myself.

It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping,...

...And the air was thick with the foul stench of Monkerstein!

I was playing the best game of my life, and yet Monkerstein and Judge Smails were consistently tied with Ty Webb and I. The tension grew with each successive stroke.

Thanks to the watchful eye of Homeland Security agent Carl Spackler...

...One of Monkerstein's henchman was caught trying to cheat!

Then I had a fantastic stroke of luck!

Monkerstein had sliced his ball into the sandtrap!

Still tied at the 18th hole, I discovered that Monkerstein had been playing the last half of the game with the wrong ball!

"You play a Number One Dunlop, don't you?" I asked Monkerstein, who began to sweat profusely. His tiny monkey eyes darted back and forth with guilt. The ball must have been switched back at the sandtrap by his phony, fatuous, flim-flammery frog.

"Well," I said apologetically. "I am afraid you've been playing with the wrong ball. Here's my Penfold Hearts and this is a Number Seven Dunlop."

Judge Smails sure was sure steamed about losing! Monkerstein just cowered behind his golf partner and promised to make monthly installments on their share of the bet. Judge Smails paid up reluctantly in small bills, pocket change and a gum wrapper. Of course, Monkerstein never did come up with his share of the cash. That whelcher!

Even their caddy seemed to be a bit upset.

Ty Web, Carl Spackler and I retired to the 19th hole. We bought drinks for everybody, even Judge Smails! Later Carl introduced us to a special project that he had been working on, a hybrid of Kentucky Bluegrass, Featherbed Bench, and Northern California Sinsemilla.

The Evil Dr. Monerstein and his little frog vowed revenge...