“We have to get your mind right.”

“You must be Neb.”

“Nebuchadnezzar, at your service.” He bowed. “What’s keeping you from winning?”

“If I knew that, I wouldn’t be here. One day, I got the shanks, and they won’t go away. It doesn’t have anything to do with how I think. It’s just a random curse.”

“Well, if it’s a curse, we’ll deal with that, but if it’s not—I have other remedies. My goal, is to understand your symptoms. Contrary to popular belief, there are no losers, only lost people. If it’s a curse, we’ll start there, but in my experience, when dealing with a man, it’s usually a woman, at the root of his problems. How’s your love life?”

“Non-existent.”

“That’s bad, and we’re on an island, so it can be difficult to fix that.”

“What would you recommend?”

“I’m thinking… How far are you willing to go?”

“To win the Open?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll die, to be great!”

“For fame and glory?”

“What else.”

“A hero. Good. I want you to sleep with a mermaid.”

“A what?”

“If she doesn’t kill you, she will make you stronger. Plus, you will be able to go all day and all night in bed and out of bed. The problem is, most men drown.”

“Dude. Mermaids don’t exist.”

“What are you? 35? And you think you know everything. I’m 70. I’ve lived twice as long as you. Come with me to the ancient burial grounds, and I’ll make you ready to dive into the deep.”

I followed him, convinced he was a madman, but I had spent time with worse, in the field of education. The women there, thought they were female gods. They taught about God and turned him into a woman, by referring to the deity with female pronouns. A chip on their shoulders? It was more like, a hatchet job. So, when I walked into the woods with Neb, it didn’t bother me.

“Watch out for snakes,” he said.

“What? We’re on an island.”

“Sea snakes. They like the shade, and they burrow into the sand, to lay their eggs. Don’t get between a mother and her young, or she’ll lay her eggs in you.”

I knew he was trying to scare me.

We entered a clearing, like stone henge, with boulders, pointing to the stars.

“Runes. If you want to attract a Mermaid, you can’t come-off as desperate. If she knows you are trying too hard, she won’t touch you. Under each stone, I’ve buried a dead golfer. It requires necromancy, to attract a maiden of the deep.”

“Now, that’s going too far, Neb. I won’t sleep with a dead body, let alone a male golfer. That’s worse than Ted Bundy and Harvey Milk combined.”

“Oh—you’re confusing necromancy with necrophilia. What you need is one of their golf clubs I buried with them. It’s kinda like fishing. You pretend to hit your shot into the ocean, on accident. Then you go to retrieve your ball, and the mermaid will save you from drowning, and then you will make love to her on the beach. It’ll be better than Tiger Woods and his Swedish wife. His problems began when he cheated on her, so don’t cheat on your mermaid, or you will regret it.”

“Neb. Where did the dead golfers come from?”

“Don’t tell anybody, but I’m a serial killer,” he laughed.

“I believe you.”

“I’m only joking,” he smiled. Many golfers want to be memorialized on this island. They have good memories of playing golf here when they were young, and it becomes a place to die. They want to be buried with their clubs, like a knight with his sword.”

To be continued…