Everything from finding some random never-before-seen videotape footage of Candy kissing a girl, to trying to escape all the nonsense that is/was LA with a 18-wheeler, the entire box trailer empty except for my few remaining wordly possessions, to trying to save flocks of girls from the grounds of what was some alternate Universe Playboy mansion, to it ending as I was playing golf with my father. We had been playing in some sort of just-for-fun scramble like configuration, and it was towards the end of my father's life when his mind was still sharp enough, but his vision had become comically bad. Everyone else had finished putting and was slowly meandering off the green chatting and heading back to the club house, with only my father's turn left to putt, although at this point I guess the putt didn't matter. It was only about 3 feet, but I had missed it because the green itself was actually some comically torn-up/destroyed sand and patchy grass like pasture surface. Like what the greens in Electra were sometimes like, but 2 or 3 times worse.
"Damnit Son, let me show you how it's done." In typical cocky albeit at this point blind fashion, he drops his ball relatively close to the ball marker, but about 3 feet to the right of where it actually where it was, where I had putted from, and also with the grain and down hill towards the hole.
As he lined up to putt, I interupted and stopped him. Not only to make some comment about how far away from the marker he couldn't see that his ball had dropped, completely changing the difficulty level of the putt, but also to point out and remove several comically large rocks from its deep and sandy path that would have completely blocked the shot from going in, but in doing so, actually leaving a fairly nice guidance trench leading directly to the whole. Not that the putt mattered at this point as whatever scores seemed already to be established and this was just for the hell of it. With the added assistance the putt was made, and as I was telling him how great he was with the added smartass factor of reminding him that was only because I had to remove the larger-than-golf-ball-sized rocks and not mind that it was a completely different putt. As we were walking back to the club house afterwards it suddenly occurred to me that was the last time I would ever play golf with my father, something I had done my entire youth, even with all the adult men when I was just a kid. I broke down into tears and said "I don't know what I'm going to do when you're gone..." and that's when I woke up.
Sleeping in the back of this truck. Alone for the last several years, in this artifical beyond forced and impossible to comprehend hell that is somehow my reality. F7ck the world.
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