The end of all beginnings is the beginning of all ends. That's what my father used to tell me. He was a kind, wither hearted fellow without a care in the world. His only passion was his love and his only love was for me and my mother.

We were a small, resolute family, with little to be had and little more to be wanted. We took pride in our poverty and even more in our gumption. We were people by the people, for the people. We were nothing special and most of us never would be, but we were somebody. And that we were somebody made us something to someone, and that's where the story begins.

You see, I am not a very bright fellow, though my peers and scholars would argue otherwise, and I have few, if any talents. I am a man born as average as time itself. Yet in its monotonous canter there is a certain twinkle of interest that spurts its sporadic upheaval. What that interest is I do not know, nor can I say, but like time itself, people seem to find a real interest in me, perhaps due to my short acquaintance with time and it's companions.

You see, I am not a very old fellow, only twenty three by most accounts, and rather dull in the most interesting of ways. I've never been good with numbers and my musical skills are nil. My writing is pathetic and my speaking isn't much better. The sciences are a conundrum I may never conquer and sports seem to be a whole field of impossibilities upon themselves. I am a nobody made from nothing forever to become something.

And that's just it. I, like everyone else, even in my meager, pathetic state, am something, and that's really something, don't you agree. I can't say what makes me something or what makes something else not something, I can only say that nothing is not something and I am not nothing, for I am breathing and speaking and even thinking right as I may.

I don't know what blessed me with this glorious ability to both be and to realize my being, but I am very grateful for whatever it is. Perhaps what created me is nothing, and thus we are born something from nothing. An interesting theory, but surely no science could prove that.

How may DNA and RNA and all that complicated stuff be explained without the overarching theme that is life itself. If we are all created from nothing, then why is there anything in all the somethings?

Perhaps it was the first something that came from nothing, and thus one nothing became something which again became something else. A never ending cycle of evolution and creation and being. Something for all of us. Something for everyone.

But I guess that kind of bogs down the whole creationism theory. But then again, maybe it doesn't. I mean, Adam and Eve were made from nothing, or something like that. I mean I guess there was God and all that, but he's such a something he's not really an anything. He's a nothing. That must sound very blasphemes to the good Christians of today. Well I do apologize, I mean no offense. I only mean to say he is nothing because he was never first something. I mean, in the physical sense of course. Of course he's something to somebody, but I can't say he's really anything to me. It's not like I'm not religious or anything like that. It's just, well, what's there to believe? I mean, whether there's a god or not I'm still going to die. I'm still going to be buried six feet under ground or burned to solemn ashes. And people are still going to weep over my dead soul. There's no changing that. But what if there was?

I mean, it's not that far fetched. I mean, really, the science must be pretty close. Surely there's someone somewhere in the world working on something of the sort. It'd be foolish to think no one was working on nothing of that magnitude. It seems too important to pass up. Then again, that's coming from someone who passed it up himself.

Not that I'd be much help anyhow. I'm not good at anything, like I said earlier. I'm just a nobody, really. And there's nothing wrong with that. I'm not complaining or anything. I like being a nobody. It makes me feel like a somebody. I mean, how many people get to be a nobody? Very few, I suppose. So I consider myself lucky. Really lucky, really. I get to be a nobody when everybody's a somebody, and that's a nice thing to think.

But I guess even a nobody has got to do something to somebody, or he's not really living, is he? Even microorganisms provide symbiotic relations to their hosts. And I'm certainly more than that. No offense to the microorganisms out there or anything, I'm just saying, me being a human and all, I feel like I at least got an advantage on the size front. But I don't know. Who am I to say?

Anyways, now that we got those introductions out of the way, I guess I can start telling you a little about myself. I mean the me now. Not the me then or before that. But me now. At this moment. I'd tell you what happens after, but I'm not so sure myself. Sorry future, I guess you'll just have to wait your turn like everyone else.

My name is August Heltz, I'm twenty three years old, I'm single, a senior in college, and a full time professor. I also make a little money from golf, but that's really just a side gig for the time being. I'm really more of a teacher, if you really must know. Competing is more of, well, it's just to blow off some steam and stuff. You know how it goes.

I really like my job, and school is fun and all, but lately, I keep having to push everything back. Dumb, I know. But it's just, well, it's this golfing thing. It just seems to be taking up more and more time. And I don't even know why. I'm not even that good.

And it's not like I'm practicing a ton or anything like that, I practice the same amount I always have. It's just, well, for this whole golfing gig, there's a lot of traveling. Ireland, England, Scotland, and all over the U.S. And lately, I've been getting a lot of calls from these people called the pga about opening something for them, but I don't even know anyone named pga and I sure as heck don't wanna start opening things for strangers.

But after a while I start getting real tired of their calls and start going to these open things or whatever, and it turns out, their real fun. I mean really fun. Like rich people and famous people come to watch you play! Golf, of all things! I don't really get the whole deal, but I play along, and make a lot of cool new friends. One of them has a weird name, lion or something. I can't remember. Apparently he used to be really good, but he doesn't seem all that good to me, that is, when I play with him.

So now we're at the part of the story where I'm at, right now. I mean, sort of. There's a little background info about how I got on the plane and got to sit first class and all that, but it's not really that exciting. Kind of just your boring old day to day kind of stuff. But now I'm sitting next to this really pretty girl. I mean really pretty. And not like smoking hot either. More like, I wanna love her than romp with her, if you know what I mean.

Oh wait! I think she's about to say something!

"So you play golf?"

"Oh! A little." My cheeks burn like incense, "How did you know?"

"Your shirt." The girl chuckles, "The P.G.A. The professional golf association." So that's what that stands for!

"Oh! Well, yes, obviously. But how did you know I actually play."

"You just got a look about you, I suppose."

"Do you play golf?" I whisper timidly.

"A little. Not much though. It messes up my swing."

Swing. Swing. What sport has a swing in it. Baseball? No, she's a girl. Softball? Maybe, but those girls tend to be a little on the hefty side. Polo? Is there a girl's league? What other sport has a swing?

"Tennis" the girl sings, as if hearing the unspoken, "I play tennis."

"Really?"

"You don't have to pretend to be interested. I know it's not that all interesting. I'm not even that good."

"Well surely you must be quite good to sit first class." I offer foolishly, not accounting for any other variables.

"Yes," the girl hesitates, "but not good enough."

"And why not?"

"I guess it just wasn't meant to be."

"I've never really believed in fate, myself."

"Why is that?"

"I always thought if fate really existed, I'd still live in that same small town in that same little county in that same do nothing state. But I don't. Instead, I'm a tenured professor, professional golfer, and sitting first class, next to a beautiful lady."

"Well isn't that fate? Sitting next to me."

"No. I'd say that's luck."

"Well I don't know if I'd use that word."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It doesn't mean anything. All I'm saying is, if it were luck, it wouldn't be falling for you."

Blatant words procure nothing but blubbering for a fairly long interval. "I...I...beg your pardon." I stutter after sometime.

"You know. Like love. I'm falling in love with you."

"Well surely you can't possibly..."

"Love is not something you question, sir. It is something that simply is. What's your name, anyways."

"Oh...uhhhh....August. August Heltz."

"Well it's terribly nice to meet you. I'm Penelope."