‘‘Bogey man, bogey man, hide if you will. The creature of shadows I will catch with skill!’’

This was definitely wrong. Just as it occurred to Bob to speak to the officials about postponing play, a little, little man with a long beard and red, pointed cap bounded up onto the tee. Bob almost dropped his club.

‘‘Whaaa?’’

‘‘You’ve got to play,’’ the little man told him. ‘‘It’s sudden death.’’

‘‘Jim, it looks like a garden gnome,’’ the commentator said.

‘‘Play?’’ Bob asked.

‘‘If you don’t continue, well, the consequences . . .’’

‘‘Consequences? What consequences?’’

‘‘Why, sudden death!’’

An official strode up to the green with determined strides. ‘‘This is not acceptable,’’ he said.

"It appears the official is conferring with MacDuff and the garden gnome, Jim,’’ the commentator said.

The gnome whirled and pointed at the commentator. ‘‘I am not a garden gnome. My name is Robertson and I’m a golf gnome.’’

‘‘I don’t care what kind of gnome you are,’’ the official told him. ‘‘You are interfering—’’

Robertson waved his hand at the official. The man vanished, his empty clothing—smart yellow blazer, plaid slacks, golf hat, and all—collapsing to the ground. Within moments, a toad hopped out from beneath the hat.

‘‘Interference!’’ it croaked.

—from ‘‘Chafing the Bogey Man’’ by Kristen Britain