on the green hole 8, and five over par southern california sunshine numb leaning on a putting iron leaning on a fistful of xanax i had given up on the game a long time ago just didn't know it yet my friend was strung out on speed and coke "breakfast of champions", he said he had been aimlessly whacking the ball for the last hour "fifty bucks to whoever hits Brian Wilson" he suddenly yelled! sure enough, there was Brian Wilson, standing by the mexican food-truck, waiting for a taco or burrito or God knows what i felt xanax confident so i walked over and shook his hand i told him thank you, and that his music probably saved my life "probably" he asked? "yes" i said, and walked away i told my friend to take some xanax and chill out "xanax is just xanax spelled backwards" he said and i could not argue with that we never finished that round of golf, but somehow i still feel like i won