An Average Day Golfing With The Boys

It’s a pleasant Saturday morning, and as you wake up, you can’t help but notice how parched your mouth feels, reminiscent of the arid plains of the Sahara desert. Your instinct leads you to reach for your phone, eager to look at the rather explicit messages you sent to your matches on Tinder. After indulging in that guilty pleasure, you decide to fire up the group chat and inquire, “What is the move?” One of your friends suggests a game of golf, and you find the idea appealing, as spending five hours under the scorching sun seems like the worst remedy for your hangover.

Before embarking on your golfing adventure, you take a moment to prepare a modest breakfast consisting of a slice of toast a cup of coffee, and a hit of your “Rainbow Candy” vape pen. Armed with your dad’s stolen golf clubs, you head to the golf course, albeit at the expense of a rather astronomical green fee, just for the privilege of hitting a small ball into a slightly larger hole. After shelling out $70, you decide to quench your thirst with a transfusion at the bar before joining the rest of your friends, who are already waiting with the golf cart. Being a seasoned golfer, you forego the warm-up range, reasoning that you’ll save your best shots for the actual course. You say, “I’ll keep the good shots for the course,” realizing that this joke has been overused, much like a vape pen in a dive bar.

Arriving at the first tee, you ready yourself for the opening drive. With solid contact, you manage to achieve a decent strike, but it’s followed by an unfortunate slice and a tweaked back, which you’ve already decided will serve as a solid excuse for the next 17 holes. True to form, you lose a ball after just a single shot, but you find happiness in the simple joys of life. After spending five hours alternating between curses and sipping on light beer, you finally reach the 18th hole and execute the one brilliant shot of the day, leaving you thinking, “Ah, I truly love this game.”

As you return to the car, someone enthusiastically suggests, “How about some beers?” And so begins the bender.