An Untold Story
Chapter One: Once upon a time, three to four years from now, everything we knew changed. I mean, really and permanently changed.... As forecast a meteorite the size of Ireland and weighing 15 trillion tonnes collided with the earth at a speed of 17,000 miles per hour completely destroying the entire planet and breaking it into several massive fragments some of which were sent hurtling towards the sun and the others spinning of into the wider solar system.
Gets worse: President H. Clinton spends billions redecorating and renovating DC. Debt now measured as googolplex squared. Meredith, a hostess at the local pub whispered to her co-worker Doreen, "If only we knew what was to come, we would be getting drunk now instead of playing chess, trying not to think." One of the regulars piped up, "I play drunk or otherwise in an altered state. I've never played any other way." No one knew whether he referred to darts or checkers.
The television news of the day stunned everyone whether rich and poor: "Human life is finally discovered on another planet and lucky for us we also discover that they taste good solving the global hunger crisis." The usual suspect gainsayers mused, "Oh, yeah. That's a good one. Have you blokes taken your full regimen of prescription meds today or wut?"
Chapter Two: Theresa, the always focused bartender, kept her comments succinct: "Altered state would suit me, most certainly leads to outer checked inspirations. What is the recipe?" "Is there any other way?" someone asked. The same regular piped up again a few drafts later: "Anything to make you relax yet stay alert. Psychoactives affect everyone differently. For me alcohol takes the edge off if I am wound too tight. THC products help me relax and IMO help me find those crazy looking tactical shots. I also think it helps me focus so I don't lose track of the board in my head so to speak. So alcohol on occasion and THC is the drug of choice. Mushrooms and LSD, I couldn't focus on my plan. Opponent at chess club before serious game: Hey man, you smell like pot. Me: Hey man, I FEEL like some pot." The pub closed in the wee hours.
Next morning the weather forecasters warned of unseasonably cold weather and power outages during the next few days. And then, "i farted" Devout Agnostic announced to the surprise of Meredith, Doreen and Theresa; and then "Bobby Ewing wakes from his coma and realizes its all been a dream and life at Southfork carries on as before", Randy opined.