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Shivering in the darkness, your clothes soaked with dew, you awaken from a drunken slumber. Head pounding, you sit up and look around. Eyes bleary with sleep, you ask yourself how you got there.

The moon shines down on you like a judgmental eye illuminating your surroundings. Seeing the copious crushed cans of beer littered about you begin to remember the day’s follies on the Back 9. 

You’re all alone. You start to feel claustrophobic. It feels as though the night is closing in on you like you’re being enveloped in Dracula’s cape. 

Panic sets in. “What was that?!” you ask as you whip your head towards the sound of a low growl in the woods nearby. You tell yourself to stop being silly. It was probably just your stomach…Right? You haven’t eaten anything since lunch.

You squint towards the dark thicket of trees scouting for movement, but the fog is rolling in heavy now, as thick as pea soup…

You hear it again, except this time it’s closer, accompanied by the sound of a twig cracking underfoot…

“Screw this!” You bolt in what you think is the direction of the parking lot, but the fog is so thick you’re just not sure! Off in the distance, the faint glow of a light shines like a beacon of hope. You run faster now, your heart is racing, the pounding in your head is almost deafening.

Salvation! The light is coming from the shack of the greenskeeper. You pound on the door and collapse to the ground. A pair of large, calloused hands drag you inside. The acrid stench of fertilizer mingles in the air with the scent of freshly cut grass. The faint sound of Corey Hart’s “Sunglasses at Night” crackles on the hi-fi. He plops you down on a folding chair and thrusts a mug of whiskey into your trembling hands. 

“Looks like you’ve had some night!” He muses, his face hidden in the shadows.

“On this very night, ten years ago, along this very stretch of green, in a dense fog just like this. I saw the most terrifying thing I’ve ever seen. There was this sound, like a garbage truck dropped off the Empire State Building... And when they pulled the driver's body from the twisted, burning golf cart. It looked like this…”

The horror, the HORROR! As he turns to face you all you can focus on is the hideous pair of sunnies he is wearing. Who cares if his face looks like canned spaghetti. These heinous glasses are all slip, all bounce, all glare! They look like the type of sunglasses that come with a free bowl of soup! Seeing the terror on your face he cackles and says, “Oh, they’ll look good on you though!” 

You writhe and scream as he places them on your face…You are never seen or heard from again.

(We can’t be sure, but we’re pretty sure it was the embarrassment of being seen in those hideous shades.) 

It is said that these Tales From the Greenskeeper shades were inspired by the urban legends of local golf course folklore, passed down by generations of greenskeepers who have seen a thing or two in their day. Some say the Flamingo Eye Technology can ward off the diabolical schemes of the fashion deranged. We’ll never know for sure…* Cue maniacal laughter*


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