It was the best of times, it was the worst of times; cheating; lying; voting Republican...
And so it was when I started my One hundred and eleventy chess match on RHP. I never cheat. I never lie. And I sure as sugar don't swear or vote Republican.
But as I dragged my bishop from F1 to B5 a dark cloud blotted the winter sun. Static electricity interrupted my radio (which incidently was playing a cheerful Cure song). My door swung open with a whoooooosh of wind.
And in walked the ghost of Chess past...Cribs...dressed like a prostitute.
"Yo Shav." he muttered, waving his hands like a modern day windmill.
"Yo Cribs," answered I, but slightly wary, "I can see straight through you."
"Yo yo yo." He chuckled like a Santa Gangsta. "I be comin' to tells you you need to get yous ass in gear boy. You must fight fire with fire, I tells ya. Yo. If someone's pimpin' yo whore, you gotta pimp his or you gonna get chucked out da ghetto."
And like a critic in Soviet Russia he disappeared n'er to be seen again.
"Well," Said I to my keyboard. "That was pretty strange."
Pawn A7 to A6.
"I wonder what he was on about?" And I countered with a subtle B5x Knight on C6.
And just as I was nibbling on space cake and sipping a slurp of fine rose wine an even darker cloud passed 'fore the sun, the static on my radio was interrupted by a Rush Limbaugh broadcast and my bedroom door flew out of its hinges, smacking into my fake nude Kylie poster, ripping Minogue from her fake nipples down.
"How rude." Says I, turning to see what attrocity was now interfering with my already lagging concentration. And there stood Bobby Fischer, the ghost of Chess present.
"It's those damned commie zionist pigs." He explained with his head spinning in circles.
"If it weren't for them you wouldn't need to. But it is for them. So you have to. If you don't. They will. And if they do, you won't. So do it! Don't let the government or Russ fool you otherwise. Do it. JUST DO IT!" He faded off into oblivion like Starskey from Hutch.
I scratched my chin.
B7 x C6
What was I to do?
Move a pawn?
Suddenly, I wasn't half the man I used to be. There was this shadow sort of like hanging over me...and the worst was yet to come.
Rush faded into a Castro speech, a rat ran off with my space cake and my wine evaporated as the heating in the room went wild....
A shadow like that of a winged Balrog entered through my broken door...
And there, before me, stood Sherlock Holmes...the ghost of chess future.
"That's a suprise." Said I.
"Fiddlesticks to that." He said as he walked into my room puffing his pipe.
"What do you want from me?" I queried.
"Elementary my dear Shav." He answered. "I'm here to help you."
I lifted my eyebrow as only Spock could.
"You see, my dear Shav, intelligent people like us get wrapped up in fake morals. Our brains get in the way of our rational..."
He pronounced rational as if he were French.
"That's why I take drugs." He stated. "That's why..."
"I take drugs too." I answered, eager to please.
"That's not enough!" He snapped. "Don't you see? I use drugs, not for entertainment or sexual enhancement! I take drugs....to cheat on the criminals!"
"oh."
"Yes," he continued, "And so must you. If you can't beat them, you must join them. Fight them at their own level. Destroy them. You know you need to...The future of chess is at stake. EXTERMINATE. EXTERMINATE." And Sherlock disappeared like Davros in a tardis.
My oppent castles.
Slowly, reluctantly at first, I open up the drawer beside my computer desk and withdraw the box. A smile appears on my features as I retrieve the "Chess 1000 mega-win super computer."
I feel my heart pounding in my chest. I feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins. I switch the master computer on and laugh hysterically...
Oh yes. It is a far greater thing I do now....than I've ever done before!
