Hey, you there! What are you doing there? Just passing through. Nobody said you could play...

Frank (Golfer): Hey, you there! What are you doing there? Bill Foster: Just passing through. Frank (Golfer): Nobody said you could play through! Get off my hole! Jim (Golfer): Frank, Frank, he said he was passing through. Passing through. Frank (Golfer): He's not even a member, look at the way he's dressed, for Christ's sake! Would you get off my golf course? Bill Foster: I am! Frank (Golfer): Go back the way you came! Jim (Golfer): Frank, Frank, listen, I don't like the looks of this guy. Leave him alone, will you? Frank (Golfer): [getting worked up] Listen, what am I paying my fucking dues for? This is my golf course! If I want to play here, I will play here, you understand? If he gets hit with my Titleist, that's his fucking problem! Jim (Golfer): Don't yell at me, I'm just here playing with you. Frank (Golfer): FORE! [Foster ignores him and keeps walking] Frank (Golfer): FORE! [Frank hits his ball, Foster ducks and falls to the ground to avoid getting hit by it. He pulls out a shotgun out of his bag] Bill Foster: FINE! What the hell are you trying to do? Kill me with a golf ball? It's not enough you got all these beautiful acres fenced in for your little game, but you gotta kill me with a golf ball? You should have children playing here! You should have families having picnics, you should have a goddamn petting zoo! Instead you've got these stupid electric carts for you old men with nothing better to do! [he shoots their golf cart, it rolls down the hill. Frank clutches his chest and falls to the ground] Jim (Golfer): Frank? Frank? What's wrong, Frank? Frank? Frank, are you OK? Bill Foster: Aren't you ashamed of yourself? Jim (Golfer): Oh my God! I gotta get some help! [Jim runs off. Foster walks up to Frank, who is writhing on the ground, having a heart attack] Bill Foster: What's wrong with you? Frank (Golfer): [gasping] Heart... Bill Foster: Your heart? Something's wrong with your heart? Well, what can I do? Frank (Golfer): Pills... pills... Bill Foster: Pills? Where are your pills? [Frank tries to say "cart" and points down the hill, Foster turns and sees the golf cart plunging into a water hazard] Bill Foster: [smirking] Well, I guess you're out of luck, aren't you? Your little cart's going to drown. Now aren't you sorry you didn't let me pass through your golf course? Frank (Golfer): [wheezing, barely able to speak] My... golf... course... Bill Foster: Yeah. And now you're going to die, wearing that stupid little hat. How does it feel?