Mattopia: a land where people could roam around freely in bikinis and Star Wars apparel. My island realm of the South Pacific would pay homage to some of mankind's greatest achievements. Of course the most significant of these would have to be the roller coaster. Others include water slides, futuristic tree houses, and a sewage recycling facility that looked good on paper but bad in reality. Having attempted to put my plans into effect I came across certain obstacles that proved too much for me. The cost alone exeeded one hundred and twenty-three million dollars. Then there were various problems concerning transportation to the island (due to the fact that I was unable to purchase the land that I originally wanted. It seems the french have plans to do some nuclear testing on it. Either I'd have to find another location or wait a couple thousand years until it was habitable again. I chose to move. And that's when things started to get complicated. No airline in the world would agree to fly to the island. The nearest landmass was too far away to accommodate small aircraft so I was forced to add an airfield to the island's design. But following the failure of a last-ditch bid to get Bengali Air to service the destination I was forced to face the fact that it would be impossible to fly citizens in. This left me with only one option: sea travel. The nearest major port from which a passenger ship could sail was over nine days away. This then forced me to scrap the construction of the airport and begin constructing a docking area large enough to accomodate a ship of that size. True, the Mattopian naval docks had already been planned, but they were designed to be in a secured area that was off limits to international vessels. To make matters worse, I couldn't find any major cruise lines that would service the island. Like the airlines, they felt it was too far out of their way. Due to the fact that Mattopia was only open to people with citizenship it wasn't considered to be a viable vacation destination. So I was screwed again. I briefly looked into buying my own ship until I realized how much it was going to cost. Leasing a ship would have been possible but without a decent return on its use I would have no way to make the quarterly payments. So that was that.
Near bankruptcy, and on the verge of a nervous breakdown, I was forced to scrap the entire thing. So now I've got this deserted island in a remote part of the South Pacific and nothing to show for it. I own the land out-right, so I figured I might as well do something with it. And that's when it came to me (in the shower, of course). I tore down everything that I had built to date and sold it off to various impoverished countries and international scrap merchants. I then hired the world's best mini golf course architect and set him to work designing the most gruelling eighteen holes of miniature golf imaginable. Following that I had twelve small cabanas built, all of them equipped with modern fixtures, and linked them together with state of the art video phones. I then rented a plane, kidnapped twelve of the Dallas Cowgirls, flew to Los Angeles, got on a boat and sailed southwest. When we arrived on the island I burned the boat, drugged and brainwashed the girls, and played continuous rounds of mini golf using one cowgirl at a time as a caddy. Since my arrival on the island I have played continuously for three weeks, three days, and seven hours. My goal is to play until I either drop dead or score a perfect round. That means that I have to get a hole in one on each hole consecutively. The odds of that happening, knowing how difficult the course is, are somewhere in the neighbourhood of 50,000 to 1. So there it is. If you guys see me on tour in the future then you'll know I pulled it off. If you don't then there's a good chance that I'm dead and twelve Cowgirls are going to give birth to the first generation of a new super race. A race of people that will dominate miniature golf for the rest of human history. |
