HOW TO IMPROVE AT GOLF-The Psychedelic Way

HOW TO IMPROVE AT GOLF- The Psychedelic Way

I had just made an awful approach shot with my trusty 4-iron ('trusty'
in the way i was sure to hit a bad shot with it...muchlike all my other
clubs, i suppose) when I heard the sobbing in the tall rough grass on
the far side of the fairway. Trying to concentrate on my game,I ignored
it. My next shot,a chip onto the green, inexplicably swerved mid-flight
and headed in the direction of the crying. As I walked toward the place
where my ball landed, wishing I had paid a bit more for a luminous one,
there was another cry. My partner, William McAndrew, called over from
the green. I signaled I had lost my ball and as I turned round I saw
the origin of the crying.

A large, hairy man was crying like a pathetic little girl just a few
metres away. 'Oh my God,' I thought to myself as the pathetic man began
to weep, 'Help me! Help me! I've lost my special pink bunny rabbit!' I
looked at McAndrew and he looked at me. 'Your special pink bunny
rabbit? Are you out of your mind?' I exclaimed.
'I know,' came the reply, 'but I was so sad and needed a friend.' 'But
absolutely everybody knows special pink bunny rabbits like watermelons
on a Sunday!?'

Instinctively I reached for my Prozac but somehow the plethora of
pharmacists had all managed to mistake my prescriptions for Cannestan
Combi Thrush Creams which were not nearly so useful when a large, hairy
man crying like a pathetic little girl covered in his own tears is
weeping for his special pink bunny rabbit. I took a breath.

'Really?'
'Yes.'
'You mean it?'
'Yes.' I gave my last watermelon to the large, hairy man.
'Thank you.' And with that he was gone. I'm not sure if he ever found
his special pink bunny rabbit but with the watermelon removed from the
head of my golf clubs my game improved tremendously, so much so that I
decided to write a book about it.