The World According to JP

So I'm sitting at the house right before Memorial Day Weekend, and I ain't got shit to do. So I decide I'll go to the local putt-putt golf center and play 18 or 36 holes. It's Thursday, holiday starts tomorrow, so I figured the place wouldn't be too busy. I stroll right up to the club/ball rental window; game face on, ready to prove my worth as a world-class putt-putter, and begin my wait for the part-time/schools-out-for-the-summer prick to pull himself away from the telephone long enough to take my $4.50 and give me one of those maple syrup coated putters and a faggy pink golf ball.

Anyway, the kid must have been in the shitter or it's company policy to allow the customer to beat on the 2" thick bulletproof (one can only imagine why, is robbing putt-putts a big market or somethin'?) plexi-glass window for 10 minutes before looking around the corner and saying in a I-really-don't-need-a-job-but-I-get-free-video-game-tokens tone, "Can I help you dude?"

My preferred response is, "No, I'm just standing here to look cool in front of the other 35 year old men." My actual response is, in as polite a tone as I can muster,"Yes, I want to play a round of golf." Seeing that the parking lot is empty, and I am the only one in line, not to mention the only one at this fine establishment period, he feels compelled to ask how many will be playing. Me and my three imaginary friends? Now I begin to worry about giving him a $10 instead of exact change. Ya'll know the kid. Same SOB that works at McDonalds. Acne so bad, he looks like he's been bobbing for french-fries. Anyway, after a quick review of third grade mathematics, I get my club, faggy pink ball, $8.75 change back (scoreboard me) and head out for the course.

Hole one straight shot between a couple of 2x4's nailed to the carpet. I miss 3 times, looks more like I'm playing air hockey than golf. After all I'm no Tiger Woods; more like John Daly looking at the concession stand wondering if they sell beer. Fuck a sucky score on the Par 2 hole 1. I'll take a mulligan and start fresh. So I start to tee up again, when Mr. by-the-book burst out of his air-conditioned nuclear holocaust protected gazebo to tell me that double-playing a hole is against the rules and it held up other players (dude must see dead people or something).

That's when the church bus from The Sword Of Joshua First United Pentecostal Church Of The Risen Lord Christ Jesus pulls in the parking lot. I begin to think this outing was not a good idea.

45 minutes later as I race to finish the last hole on the course, I make the shot of a lifetime. A hole in one!! (as if deserved the Green Jacket for such an accomplishment) The last hole, as you know, is a one-chance-is-all-you-got-hole. Anyway, I drill it. Whistles go off as if I'd won the Jackpot in Vegas and boom, I win a free round. Redeemable now, sorry no rain checks. I tell Jo Jo the pimpled-faced boy to use it himself, it may do his scarred face some good to get some sun. If I had to stay here another 5 minutes I was going to rip one of the blades off the giant windmill and begin decapitating under privileged inner city children one by one.

Moral is, if you're bored on vacation, go to the bar. You'll have more fun getting your headache there.
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