GolfAnon: Foal-in-One. (One-shot)

One shot based on things in my room.
Golfer statue. Wristband thing.  Old Playstation I bought at PAX East 2012.

>Day Alfafa Monster in Equestria.
>You told the ponies the majesty of vidya gaems in your world.  Down here all they got is old school arcade machines.  No, like oldschool.  As in no electricity.  The buttons are mashed to shove levers for games like basketball.  Bitches don't know what they're missing.
>Most of all, there was Tiger Woods PGA Tour.  You wrecked that shit.  To your surprise, ponies had golf, too.  Most of the kids learned how to play mini-putt, since anyone could muster enough force to swing with their mouths.  Real golf was only played by Unicorns, who could use magic to levitate the clubs and give proper swings.  Heading to the course, they gave you one of those plastic wristband things to prove you paid your 5 bits.
>You mastered yourself on the mini-putt tracks.  To their credit, these ponies were ingenious.  Dragon's breath via wind ducts as a hazard, the everfree forest course with tree-hole entrances coming out at different heights - hell, you'd need a degree in mathematics to hole-in one the toughest of these courses.
>Rarity seems impressed, and offered to take you out to a golf course outside of Ponyville that some pony had bought the land for in rural areas.  When you got there, you took a look at the ponies warming up.
>These fuckers knew NOTHING of golf.  Their swings were all wrong!  They had no form!  They just spun the fucking clubs in circles on the middle of the stick and walloped!
>There was no stance!  No spin!  No skill, no tact, no...
>The max distance on the range was 200 yards.
>It is on.

>You knew what you had to do.  You walked up to the shooting range ponies.  Rarity was too busy gabbing it up with some haughty ponies to notice.  Making a sale or some shit.
>You head to the counter.
"I need a club."
>The guy working the station eyes you for a minute, than hands you a standard one.
"Bigger."
>New club.
"Bigger."
>This goes on for some time.  Eventually, he has to go to a back room and get the longest one the store has.
 "Good enough."
>Ponies give you wide berth as you make your way to the middle of the shooting range slots.  Probably a little worried about walking next to a 5'10 hairless ape wielding a fucking metal club.
>You set your ball down and prepare, the unicorns next to you stopping out of curiosity.  Before your hit, you call it.  Standing at your full height, you take your club and point it out and up across the range.
>Set stance.  Bend the knees.  Keep your toes pointed properly.  Hold the club in the fingers, not the palms.  Left under right.
>Ritualistically, you go over everything your old man taught you about golf and what you learned on your own
>This was your moment.  Your time to shine.  You were going to show these ponies what it meant to be a golfer.
>A group of unicorns has been circling around you as you stare down at the ball.  Some filly fucker speaks up.
>"This oaf can't possibly be serious!"
>Your shoulders flinch.  You look up to him, fire in your eyes.  Fury in your soul.  He's already backing up in fear.
"Ore..."
>You don't even know Japanese.
"ORE WO DARE DA TO OMOTTE YAGARU?"
>Rarity breaks out of her conversation from the sound just as you swing.
>"Anonymous?!"
"ULTIMATE....STRRRIIIIIKKUUUUUUUUUU!"
And the world was set aflame.

>This ball of yours glows with an awesome power.
>Now, that's probably because it's on fucking fire.  Along with the rest of the far shooting range.
>When they found it, there was nothing left.  Only the ashen groove it carved into the heart of the ground before completely disintegrating.  560 yards.  Air must be different in Equestria or something.
>The course owner's aren't even mad.  You broke the world record into pieces - their establishment is going to get more business than ever.  Every pony in the place wants to ask you for golf advice, which you're glad to give, considering how god awful magic has made them at their swings.
>Rarity, now awake after fainting from your swing, is dam near in ecstasy.  Mainly because you were wearing HER signature hat (you told her how to make a Tam O' Shanter), shirt, pants, and spiked cleets.  Holla holla get dolla.
>Rarity, being Rarity, ended up doing most of the talking for you.  Apparently, she'd gone and signed you up for some kind of upcoming golf tournament.  Can't say you really mind - it's been ages since you've played the sport.
>The first day of practice, however, was odd to say the least.

>Rarity told you she had all the expenses covered from clubs to caddies.  The golf club had offered you a complimentary caddy, but Rarity refused.
>"Anonymous deserves only the best.  A pony who knows the greens and brush like the back of their hoof.  One that can observe the smallest change in wind patterns and the teeniest alterations to the course.  A pony with years of experience."
>Well dam.  Whoever it was, they sound legit.
>You had hiked onto the course for your first day of practice.  The faux-leather golf bag rarity gave you was great, if littered here and there with gemstones (let's not even talk about the sweater she gave you last winter).  More importantly, the clubs were AMAZING.  She ensured the crafters manufactured them to every precise detail you gave them.  Dat titanium driver.  Hummana hummana hu-
"Oof!"
>It would seem you found your hill.  Setting down your bag, you select the driver and set down your-
>Oh, it would seem there was a tee set already.  That must have been the little mound you tripped over.  Strange that they'd have the striking position raised even higher than the green.  Oh well.
>You place your feet on each side of the little dirt mount, fiddling in your pockets for the golf ball.  Gingerly, you place it on the tee.
"eep!"

>Did you hear something?  Nah, just your imagination.  You take your driver in both hands, swinging it idly next to the mound.  The dirt must be fresh, because it's shifting a little as you swing.  You step back to perform a full speed swing.
>The tee shakes from the wind, and the ball bumps down the mound.
"eep!"
>Oh that does it.  You take a closer look at where the ball hit.  Is that...yellow?
>You move away some dirt, and are met by a pink tail brushing across your face.  You grab it.
>And pull.
>Sure enough out comes a little pony like a gopher from a hole.  Oh god, where was the tee?  WHERE WAS THE TEE?  She's still dangling from your hand, covered in dirt.
"Fluttershy, what are you even..."
>"Oh...H-hi Anon..."
>You stand morbidly silent.  Fluttershy begins to spiral and twist on her own tail with the breeze, still too shocked to move her appendages and stop herself.  You watch her rotate, idly pondering if she'd make a good tree ornament.
>"So..."
>Brace for impact.
>"Are tees not your fetish?"
"No, Fluttershy.  They're not.  I don't think they're anybodies."
>"Okay..."
>You set her down facing you, and you begin to clean the dirt off her.
"You still haven't told me why you're here, Fluttershy."
>"I'm...y..dy."
>Oh boy, the cute hide behind her mane thing again.
"Speak up, now."
>"I'm your...c.y"
"Can't hear you yet, Flutters."
>"I'm your caddy."
"Oh."
Oh.
>Oh.
>You stand up without a word, put down your ball, and swing.  Some pony screams in agony about his mane being on fire.
>You turn around and walk over to your bags.
>"Anon?  I'm a really good caddy.  I can- oh!"
"You can start by carrying the clubs."
>Today was going to be a long day.
____

To be continued if, and whenever I god dam please.