Johnny_Dickfingers was foaming at the mouth by the time he eventually struck his first tee shot. He was so pumped full of god only knows what, he practically had veins coming out of teeth and the driver flew out of his hands in the follow through. Still, it had the desired effect and he drove the green in one, collecting an eagle to the delight of largely himself, but maybe a couple of people in the crowd too.

Sadly though, being high as fuck didn't really make you play golf better and he was soon level par again after a couple of dropped shots at Shall I take a Pro? (3) and Purge List (4). Signs that the opening hole eagle was little more than the death knell of the once mighty eleven-dicked darling of the AvardTa National Course were rapidly confirmed with further dropped shots, leaving him even par with two to play. 

Out of contention and evidently out of sorts, he descended further into pantomime villain, calling Taradiddle_ a "never-been jumped-up hamster cock" before bragging to anyone who would listen about the time he took Dubliner's mum "out of Ireland and all the way to heaven". This patter was not gratefully received and Dickfingers birdie at the 8th was greeted with angry shouts from the now hostile crowd. Johnny's decision to throw his putter and green jacket at them did not improve matters. LoBo, watching on confused as to why someone was still playing when he had already won, promptly put it on.

A final round of -1 for the former record holder left him -2 for his round but out of contention. 

"You won't get any more sponsors and, much more fucking importantly, any more money for me, if you don't get that arsewipe in line!" @Eve continued to rant, more to herself than anyone else, which was fortunate because they stopped listening to her long ago.

Marlowe gave Avard a wink. "At least the event has made us a fair bit though, boss. You must be rolling in it by now," he said, fighting not to laugh.

"HAS IT FUCK!" Eve screamed, taking a swipe at his fat head. "We haven't made a penny from this...this...FUCKING CATASTROPHE."

"At least Taradiddle_ could still win." Avard said soothingly. "He might even donate his winnings...."

Marlowe winced, knowing Avard had said the wrong thing. Eve whirled on him and cracked him hard across the face. "Might? MIGHT? HE MIGHT DONATE HIS FUCKING WINNINGS, MIGHT HE?" She yelled, standing over the now fallen golf-master. "If he doesn't, he's fucking dead. Where would he be without me, eh? Where? I'll tell you, licking the shit from the floor of Vezux's family reunion, THAT'S WHERE!"

"I actually think he might be doing that now anyway," Marlowe said, continuing to poke the bear. "I heard he and Aomame were planning to go sailing..."

"Sailing?" Eve's eyes lit up at the mention of an otherwise unknown family asset. "Boats are valuable aren't they? I mean someone would probably buy it from them? Could raise...ooo, a few hundred easy. Is it a nice boat? I bet it is. Aomame always has nice things. I wonder where we could fence it..."

Avard slowly picked himself up from the ground, leaving Eve to her money grabbing. Hopefully Taradiddle_ would be back soon to finish his round and the tournament; then Avard could lie low for a few years until he scrounged enough change together to get Eve off his back. 

Apparently Taradiddle had never been sailing and this was just another of Marlowe's legendary wise cracks; Eve's Rhage and Phury would be mhighty.

Tara knew that going 2 under or better would secure him the ELG Trophy and further cement his position as the best to play the sport, being both course record holder and inaugural champion. An eagle at the first, followed by a par and a birdie at the 3rd left him -8 overall and two clear of Dubliner and NickTorres. 

Their hopes barely had chance to rise over a bogey at the 4th before it had been snuffed back out by a birdie at the 5th. The nerves looked like they had begun to kick in, understandably, at Incognito (6), where a shaky looking putt went 3ft past the hole. A par left him -7 overall and a stroke clear of the chasing pair.

"Fucking shitting myself mate," @Taradiddle_ hissed to Marlowe as he approached Anita from behind the tee box. "I'm not sure I can do this."

Marlowe dropped Tara's club bag onto the grass with a loud thud, causing Tara to stop in his tracks. "What's the matter?" He asked.

"I didn't agree to caddy for a loser, pal. You'll need to get someone to carry it the rest of the way."

Tara frowned at Marlowe. "Pick it up, I need you."

"Not unless you stop being a fanny," Marlowe said folding his arms and giving Tara a look. Everyone in Don Eve's Eve Crew had seen that look before; Marlowe was very much the silk glove within Don Eve's penny-pinching fist, and his puppy dog "I believe in you" face had wrangled a few hundred thousand dollars out of more than one of her members before now. 

"Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?" He said, doubling down by producing a solitary tear to decorate his cheek.

"Fucking stop it!" Tara snarled, turning away.

"You've got this, Tara. I believe in you. You're the Bonnie to my Cldye, the Eve to my Lucifer," Marlowe picked up the bag. "The Savannah to my Vezux. Now go out and win this thing." 

After a strange interlude where his caddy dropped his bag and gave him bedroom eyes, Taradiddle_ eventually approached Anita (7). He looked a little more settled and it showed in his game, a magnificent first positioned him to attack the pin like it was an unsuspecting crewleader's bodyguard and he didn't hesitate. He took a birdie without a backward glance and moved 2 clear.

Pole Position (8) loomed and Tara was standing up and being counted. Head cheerleader Aomame could be heard chanting "He's doing it! He's fucking doing it!" over and over again in the crowd as Tara's tee shot beautifully bisected the fairway. His second rolled to the edge of the green, before he chipped on, 12ft from the hole. Two putts later he was 2 clear heading into the last, much to the delight of the crowd.

Anything but a double bogey on the last and Taradiddle_ was the undisputed ruler of Mafia Golf. All he had to do was get around Champion (9) in 5 shots or less, something he had done on each of the previous 4 rounds he had played at the course, and the ELG Trophy was his. The trophy was calling to him. "Taradiddle_" it said, "Taradiddle_, claim me", "I am yours".

Taradiddle_, the man. The legend. He stepped up and became....

Tied first - He Marlowe'd the shit out of it; a double bogey. 

Dubliner, Taradiddle_ and NickTorres would play a 3 man, 3 hole playoff to determine who was going to be the champion.

WE need to do this again was fun...

With three men all tied on -6 after 27 holes of fabulous, riveting action, the victor would be determined by a sudden death playoff. They would play a maximum of 3 further holes and if they remained tied at the end of each of them, the lowest number of strokes would win the ELG Trophy. The would begin at Takedown (1), playing Trollbait (2) and Shall I take a Pro (3) if required. 

"First to play, on the tee from Corktown, Detroit....Dubliner!" The crowd roared their appreciation for the bearded Wise Guy of Don Eve's Eve Crew, who split into a sheepish grin. He teed up his ball and took the big dog out of the bag. A couple of practice swings followed before an expectant hush fell over the spectators as Dubliner laid in to his shot with the therapeutic PING of club on ball. It sailed down the fairway to the delight of the onlookers. 

"Next on the tee from Las Vegas....NickTorres!" The Las Vegas cheering section were out in force led by golfing pioneer Mikhail who threatened to break into a smile. Nick didn't waste any time, rather nervously hitting his 3 wood 220 yards towards the pin. It ran off the edge of the fairway into the light rough, bringing a chorus of moans from his supporters.

"And finally, on the tee from Corktown, Detroit....the course record holder....Taradiddle_!" Comfortably the loudest cheer of the day for 'Mr MR Golf', 'the golfing pride of Don Eve's Eve Crew', '5 units and 5 under' and doubtlessly more self-proclaimed titles. Tara gave a knowing wink to his raucous supporters, Marlowe dogging his heels handing him his driver. He took it, flexed once, twice and struck.

The crowd gasped as Tara sliced his tee shot way right, with it eventually coming to a stop in the thick stuff. He looked shell-shocked.

Things didn't get any better from there and by the time he reached the green, he was all but out of the tournament. He eventually rattled in a putt for a +2 at the opening hole, but people were already changing allegiance. He was yesterday's news; Taradiddle_Dickfingers. 

Dubliner meanwhile hit his approach to 8ft from the hole and had a tricky par putt; NickTorres was 4ft away with the same opportunity. It was Dubliner to play first and despite the breeze and/or fear ruffling his trouser leg, his putt snaked around the hole before dropping. He gave a fist pump to the Detroit crowd, now resolutely behind him.

NickTorres stepped up to his ball, knowing a par would send them to a second playoff hole. The crowd held their breath.....HE MISSED IT! THE BALL LIPPED OUT OF THE HOLE! DUBLINER WAS THE CHAMPION!

Nick's head was in his hands, Tara threw an "FY" at Dubliner and gave his hand a cursory shake before quickly departing, with a disconsolate Marlowe in tow. Avard allowed the champion time to celebrate, before making his way to the green joining in with the applauding crowd, a wide smile across his face.

Avard shook hands with a thrilled Dubliner and draped the marvelous green jacket around his shoulders. One of his henchmen promptly appeared holding out the sterling silver ELG Trophy for the winner. Dubliner grasped the 3ft winged cup in both hands, Eve's beaming likeness smiling back at him from where it was engraved across its centre, before he lofted it high above his head to the delight of the thrilled crowd. When the cheers had begun to die down, Avard began to make his presentation. 

"With our victory crowned, it is time to award the prizes to those who chose to join in and helped to make this a memorable event. Firstly, many congratulations to our new champion, Dubliner. A truly worth winner; enjoy yourself and this fat wad of cash!"

Your accountant makes note that $10,000,000 has been wired to Dubliner from your account. 

"For coming so close in their efforts, I've decided to award each of Taradiddle_ and NickTorres with cheques for $1,000,000 a man. It was a great battle and I hope you can come back stronger next time."

Your accountant makes note that $1,000,000 has been wired to NickTorres from your account. 

Your accountant makes note that $1,000,000 has been wired to Taradiddle_ from your account.  

"For the worst rounds at the course, both Wayne and Boydy outdid themselves with a tremendous, course record, +7. They've split the booby prize between them, and each has earned a cool $500,000."

Your accountant makes note that $500,000 has been wired to Wayne from your account.

Your accountant makes note that $500,000 has been wired to Boydy from your account.

"There were no hole-in-ones but two men managed to come exceptionally close with 999 roles. One, our champion, Dubliner, and the other, amazingly, was TheViriginian who did it twice in one round and still managed missed the cut! Good work guys, a mapping credit per 999 roll, courtesy of Mr Posner."

You have regifted Durden Mapping to TheVirginian.

You have regifted Durden Mapping to TheVirginian.

You have regifted Durden Mapping to Dubliner.

"For their sterling contributions to making The Avard Invitational into the spectacle it has been, I've decided to reward Mr Johnny_Dickfingers, William_Pratt, McSteamy and Reggie-Noble to show my gratitude."

Your accountant makes note that $500,000 has been wired to William_Pratt from your account.

Your accountant makes note that $500,000 has been wired to Johnny_Dickfingers from your account.

Your accountant makes note that $500,000 has been wired to McSteamy from your account.

Your accountant makes note that $500,000 has been wired to Reggie-Noble from your account.

"For constantly questioning whether he was victorious, even after I had told him that he wasn't, LoBo."

Your accountant makes note that $500,000 has been wired to Lobo from your account.

"For the best total rolls, even though he didn't make the playoffs, Reggie-Noble with 16,103."

Your accountant makes note that $500,000 has been wired to Reggie-Noble from your account.

"And I think that is just about everyone. Well done to everyone who has won themselves a little something, hopefully it'll soften the blow of defeat. Thank you to Levey_Posner for his sponsorship, it is greatly appreciated. I also hope that all the entrants enjoyed playing in this tournament and will join us again soon for our next escapade....sign ups for which will begin shortly."

Avard paused.

"Finally, I would be super grateful if nobody could mention to Eve just how much has been awarded out in prize money, as she's probably going to shit a brick when she finds out. Thank you!"

Nick approached Dubliner and shook his hand, it did not quite go his way in the playoff's but he was happy that he got there and played a great three rounds. He thanked AvardT for all his efforts it making this tournament possible, picking up his clubs and not forgetting to shake @Taradiddle hand for his great efforts also in the play off, Nick headed pack to the club house thinking about what could of been.

William was mighty pleased, after all, he'd invested 250k in quarters and gotten back 500k in pennies. 500k in pennies, weighed approximately 123 Tons, it had taken 5 dump trucks to deliver it, and had taken most of the crew and all their hangers on to bag it up with shovels, before taking it too the bank in $100 bags. AvardT really was a cunt of the highest order, but perhaps he was a good cunt, not a real cunt like his old boss who'd been struck dead by lightning  and almost taken William with him, there was definitely something to be said about already being dead. Still, that would keep him in Morley's for at least the next 270 years, regardless of how shit business was at Spiked and Spike's Big Bad Emporium for the purveyance of Kittens. William was really at a loss as to why both businesses were doing so badly, sure he was also a cunt, but he wasn't a complete cunt, and his family had walked these streets for about as long as that other cunt @Premier. Back in the day all anyone was interested in was dildos and kittens, and now he couldn't even give them away, times had certainly changed. Anyway, back to the story at hand, digression was with out merit if there was no reason for the digression other than a cheap attempt to plug your failing businesses in New York. William walked over to AvardT and shook his hand, a good solid manly shake, which would have been slightly disturbing if he was still wandering around in just a flag, but now fully clothed it wasn't as bad.

"Thank you very much for the time and effort you put into this competition, it has livened up the streets in a way that I haven't seen in a long time. I still think you are a cunt, but you aren't the worst cunt I've met... and at least you didn't try and print a snoozepaper like MrLouisT. If you ever fancy trying this again, I will be more than happy to enter and make a complete laughing stock of myself, I think that golf just isn't my game."

And with that our plucky villain turned hero of the hour turned and left, glad of the cloudy evening and the fact that he wasn't having to wander around under a horsehair blanket.

After receiving his envelope of cash, Reggie new exactly what he was about to do. He looked over at his buddy Taga. 

"you ready? We turnin up tonight, somewhere. Let's get it."

he says as he pulls out his blunt lights it. Then he and Taga make their way out to the streets to turn up a bit.