Walking over Woods on an Idle Evening, or, When a Tiger Becomes a Lie-On


Dearest Elin,

This is your Tiger, emailing from the Gir Forest in Gujarat, India, where a nice man, Mr Narendra Modi, has made me an Honorary Lie-on. ‘Lie-On!’ said Mr Modi to me when I arrived here. ‘You mean Tiger’, I said. ‘My name is Woods. Tiger Woods. And that’s my bond. As good as my … er … marriage bond.’

‘No’, says Mr Modi. ‘Now you are a Lie-On. Lie-ons are the national animals of Gujarat.’ As we’re walking he asks if I’ve read a poem which starts, ‘This Woods, he’s lovely, dark, and deep.’ I give him a frosty look. We keep walking. ‘You have miles to go’, he says, apropos of zero.

So we get to the Gir woods, which are full of Lie-Ons. Jeez. So now I’m having a roaring time with a lotta Indian Lie-Ons. ‘We call the inhabitants of this place Gira Hua’, says Mr Modi. Hua sounds Chinese to me. But Gira Hua is not Chinese, Mr Modi says.

Sorry to have hightailed it out of Florida leaving you to face the cameras, Elin, but I sure as hell had to get away from all your yellin’. And that’s just when Mr Modi sent me his invitation saying now you aint no Tiger, man! Come join us Lie-Ons.

So here I am. Just lyin-on. Lounging. Getting some downtime.

Sure is the good life here as a Gira Hua. Relaxing. Lotsa sunshine. I’m missing lots of things here, though. My driver. My brassie. My three wood. My putter. My balls. A couple of waitresses.

I don’t understand why you were yellin’ so bad back there! Yeah, I’ve been transgressing. Sure, I’ve transgressed. But only now and then. And only with a waitress or two. What’s a waitress or two buttween you’n me?! It’s the American way of marriage. The world isn’t Scandinavia. Marriage is our most sacred institution. What’s a waitress or two when we know the family’s sacred?

And to keep it sacred there’s Prenup.

And we figured it all out in our Prenup, Elin. It says there you stand to make 5 million greens if I make out with, well, let’s say a waitress or two. And I’m not talking golf greens. I’m talking the greens I make when I get off the greens!

Fact is I’m an honorable guy. I never cheat at golf. Cheating just isn’t on in golf. My daddy, he told me straight: ‘Boy, anytime you wanna cheat, cheat on your wife. Never cheat on the greens.’ I followed his good advice. And now I can’t figure out what went wrong.

My lawyer’s transferring 5 million greens into your account right now. All just to keep our marriage sacred! I always believed in one thing straight: it doesn’t matter if a man’s black or a man’s yellow or a man’s white, his marriage’s gotta remain pure white. White as you.

And there’s only one straight way for a man to make his sacred marriage stay white. Honor the Prenup. Feed the woman her Prenup greens. It’s all there in the legalese: if a waitress interferes in what’s sacred between man and wife, do as it says in the Prenup. And that’s just what I’m doing.

Here’s another idea, let me know what you think. Let’s do us a POSTNUP.

What’s a Postnup? It’s a new concept I just thought up as a Lie-On. A Postnup is what makes things even whiter, via pumping in some more greens. Here’s what our Postnup could look like:


Clause 1: If I jump or lie on more than two waitresses per time anytime over the next five years, you get ten million per waitress in excess of the first two waitresses. (If I send the money from India, Mr Modi says there’s a tax deduction at source of two percent, unless we declare ourselves a Hindoo Undivided Family. Which he urges us to become.)

Clause 2: If any waitress so jumped or lied-on by me gets pregnant, including either or both of the first two waitresses, you get ten million more per pregnancy.

Clause 3: If you allow me to squeeze you know what, you get ten grand per squeeze. If you provide documentary evidence of me squeezing the same part of any party other than yourself, you get a straight twenty grand per documented part per party so squeezed.

Clause 4: If you give me a ‘B-Job’ before breakfast any weekday, you make fifty grand straight per ‘B-Job’. The post-breakfast rate is half. And you get nothing for weekend ‘B-Jobs’ because those come under the category my lawyer says is ‘normal marital duties’.

OK Elin, gotta run now.

If you really love me, Elin, like you always said, talk to your lawyer. Get him to talk to mine. They’ll work it all out for us. Put in more clauses. We gotta keep our marriage sacred. It’s too sacred to be just between us.

So for safety I cleared this email with my lawyer. He says I can send it. But he said to add the words ‘WITHOUT PREJUDICE’. Check this out with your lawyer and write those words in when you reply.

Your Former Tiger. Your New Lie-On.

P.S.: This feels like a sudden death playoff. Who’s gonna win? Your lawyer or mine? L-O.

1 Response to “Walking over Woods on an Idle Evening, or, When a Tiger Becomes a Lie-On”

  1. 1 anirban bandyoadhyay January 23, 2010 at 11:09 am

    Interesting how you choose to keep cubs out of the deal. you have lie-on, liers on, pregnancy, pre nup, postnup but nowhere do the cubs get a look in. They could certainly feature somewhere, I daresay. Interesting, this question of cub-ing. Left to Modi’s followers, of course, cubs could be cut open to death before their embryos are ready to push themselves out. Tiger, of course, will pay more attention to turning to reigning over the lie-ons. Elin will or will not take her pounds of green, or grin and bear it. But what happens to the cubs, be it the ones Tiger had with Elin, or going to have with the Gira-huas? Intriguing they figure nowhere. I wonder if cheating needs to exapnd itself a bit and also encompass accountability to cubs. How do we settle that account? My guess is as good as yours.

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