[We open, as Beavis and Butt-Head walk through a creek, as a golf ball flies past them.]
Beavis: Hey, Butt-Head, like, what the hell are we doing here?
Butt-Head: I told you, dumbass! We're looking for that missing kid.
Beavis: Oh yeah. Uhh, why?
Butt-Head: So that way, we can, like, get our faces on milk cartons and stuff. Then we can get award money for his capture!
Beavis: Oh yeah! That's cool! Money! Money!! MONEY!!! [Beavis is then hit in the head by a flying golf ball, and collapses in the water.]
Butt-Head: Whoa!! Cool! [He reaches into the water to get the golf ball.] Look what I got! "Tit-lee-ist"? [He laughs at what he just read on the ball.] Cool!
[We then cut to Tom Anderson who's looking for said golf ball.]
Mr. Anderson: Excuse me, boys. Y'all seen a golf ball around here?
Butt-Head: [He puts the ball in his pocket.] Uhh, no?
Mr. Anderson: Dammit! Could've sworn it landed around here somewhere! [He continues looking around for it, while Beavis and Butt-Head laugh.]
Beavis: Titleeist! Titleeist! Titicaca!
[Later on, we find the boys have stolen more of his golf balls while they wander around the golf course. They come up on some golfers cleaning their balls in a washing station.]
Butt-Head: Hey, check it out. He's washing his balls!
Beavis: Yeah, I should do that. Check these out. [He pulls some of the balls he stole, which are covered in mud.]
Butt-Head: Beavis! Your balls are filthy! Go to the ball washer, now!
[They go over to the washing station, and Beavis starts cleaning them. As he does, he becomes enamored with the idea of pulling the washer up and down for obvious reasons. As they do so, they overhear the golfers' conversation.]
Golfer: You're pulling your head on every stroke. Let me see your bag. [Beavis and Butt-Head start laughing at that comment.] Here, take your wood and try using a different grip on the shaft. [Beavis starts violently shaking the machine while he laughs hysterically at the comments.] Hey fellas! [Beavis screams as he walks up, shooting the balls everywhere.] I was wondering if you boys had any balls you'd like to sell!
Butt-Head: Uhh, yeah?
Beavis: [He picks up the balls he launched everywhere, handing them over.] Titleeist!
Golfer: I'll give you a dollar for those three! [He hands them money and walks off with the balls in hand.]
Butt-Head: Whoa! We can get rich doing this! We need to get more balls!
Beavis: Yeah! ...Umm, heh, you should've heard what you just said, Butt-Head. You said "We need to get more balls"!
Butt-Head: Oh yeah! [He and Beavis laugh as they go off to steal more golf balls from Tom Anderson. They stop to see a sign reading "Hole 9", which causes them to laugh more.]
Mr. Anderson: [Approaches them out of nowhere.] Now, I know I'm starting to sound like a broken record, but y'all seen a golf ball around here?
Butt-Head: Uhhh... No?
Beavis: Yeah, no!
Mr. Anderson: Ahh, dammit! Another two strokes penalty! God, and I'm damn near out of balls. These things don't get any cheaper neither!
[Soon enough, they start following Tom Anderson as he continues to play through.]
Butt-Head: This is gonna be cool!
[Tom hits a ball across the fairway, and Beavis and Butt-Head sneak out to steal it when he's not looking. Later, they do it again, this time hiding in a bush, but they stumble over each other once they find it. We then cut to Tom as he's hit his ball in a bunker.]
Mr. Anderson: Dammit! [He then takes out his sand-wedge and hits it out of the bunker and near a creek, where Beavis and Butt-Head prompty snatch it. Tom looks around for it, but can't find it, and he begins to freak out, realizing that was his last ball.] AHHHHHH, DAMMIT!!! DAMMIT!!! DAMMIT!!! [He starts hitting his golfbag with his club, screaming profanity.]
[Later, we find Tom Anderson returning to the lodge, where he meets the golfer the boys met earlier.]
Golfer: What do you say, Tom! How'd you hit 'em?
Mr. Anderson: Boy, I tell ya what, Dusty! I felt like a one-legged cat trying to bury turds on a frozen pond out there today, and I still got three holes to go!
Golfer: So what the hell you doing up here??
Mr. Anderson: Hell, I'm completely out of balls! I lost every damn one of them! Craziest thing I ever saw!
Golfer: Well, don't waste your money in the pro-shop. There's a couple of kids over there selling balls real cheap!
[We cut to Beavis and Butt-Head, selling all of Tom's balls to other golfers.]
Butt-Head: Uhh, they're really good balls!
Beavis: Yeah, and they fit right in the hole.
Mr. Anderson: What you got there, fellas?
Beavis: Yeah! One dollar!
Mr. Anderson: [He takes one of them from Beavis, and notices they look like the ones he lost.] Hey, now wait a minute! These look kinda familiar!
Butt-Head: Many balls look the same, sir.
Beavis: Yeah. I have two that are identical!
Mr. Anderson: [He sighs.] A dollar each, you say, huh? Damn! [He starts paying them and takes his own balls back.]
Butt-Head: These things ain't getting any cheaper.