John the Golf Guy

John the Golf Guy wanted to win his game of Golf with a good score. He was golfing alone, but he imagined he was golfing with a competitive friend. He hit his little ball and it flew to near the hole.

Now was the moment he'd been waiting for. The putt time. He took his golf stick that was used for putts. He put his putt stick down on the ground next to the little ball. He wanted to hit that little ball right. He imagined higher stakes for himself.

"I'd hit that ball better than you if I were there." said his imagined competitive friend.
"Shh." said John the Golf Guy.

John stepped away from the putt for a second. He needed a putt break. This putt was becoming stressful.

"Why'd I have to imagine that?!" he said to himself, regarding the stakes-raiser that his imagined competitive friend had tossed his way.
"Because just a simple relaxing putt would be too easy." said the imagined competitive friend.
"Hey, that may be true but it's actually causing me stress." said John
"Uh oh well healthy competition is good, but don't be too stressed." said the competitive friend.
"I need a baby aspirin now, I think." said John.
"Uh oh, well be mindful of the tee-time that started after you." said the imagined competitive friend.
"Oh!" said John.

John went back to his putt because he was taking too much time. There was another tee time behind him. This was now posing a significant stake raiser. Not an imagined one. The imagined competitive game mate he'd imagined so he could have some healthy stake-raising competition had now given him something to truly worry about. In addition to the putt he was already worried about.

John looked down at his little ball. He needed to make a significant tap to putt it into the little hole. He really wanted to get the little ball in the little hole in one little tap. Sweat beads formed on his forehead. He was really feeling the burn about this putt.

"Please putt well." he said to himself.

He looked behind him. He didn't see the tee time behind him coming, but he knew it wouldn't be long. Stalling would do no good. Getting the little ball in the hole with two putts also be bad. John's blood pressure was skyrocketing.

"I'm concerned," said imagined competitive friend, "that you'll miss if you don't try for two putts."

John had his pride. He went for one putt to make it in the little hole. He missed. He had a heart attack. He died. He laid there for a few minutes before he died. He could have been saved if he'd waited a bit longer for the tee time behind him to get closer. But that tee time was taking his time and relaxing with his golf game. John's family got a lot of life insurance. He was rich.