A GAME OF CHESS*

 * With reference to one of my favourite poems - The Waste Land by T.S. Eliot.

II. A Game of Chess (some appropriate excerpts)

The Chair she sat in, like a burnished throne,

Glowed on the marble, where the glass

Held up by standards wrought with fruited vines

From which a golden Cupidon peeped out

(Another hid his eyes behind his wing)

           ..........

Footsteps shuffled on the stair.

...........

“My nerves are bad tonight. Yes, bad. Stay with me.

“Speak to me. Why do you never speak. Speak.

“What are you thinking of? What thinking? What?

“I never know what you are thinking. Think.”

I think we are in rats’ alley

Where the dead men lost their bones.
            ........... 

“What is that noise?”

The wind under the door.

“What is that noise now? What is the wind doing?”

Nothing again nothing.

“Do

“You know nothing? Do you see nothing? Do you remember

“Nothing?”

***********************

OK, that was fun - at least I enjoyed it. We studied T.S. Eliot in the P classes at college. I thing bob and Richard (not in the P classes) studied William McGonagall and Spike Milligan respectively. 

Back to the shack and the bloggers lockdown

**********************

"Bloody Bob, bloody Richard" said The Curmudgeon while pouring himself a large glass of Esk Valley Reserve Chardonnay which he had kept hidden in one of the many holes in the skirting boards in the small bedroom- the one with the bunk beds. Why there were so many holes in the skirting boards, ceiling and walls in this shack? He shuddered to think.

bob and Richard had conspired to cheat him in the 'Latin challenge'* earlier. The Curmudgeon should have known this  at the time but, having been educated in the P classes at college, decency, morality and a sense of ethics led him to expect the best of people. Oh how often he was disappointed.

He downed the wine and poured another and headed back into the lounge. This was the 'fancy' room in the shack differentiated by the fact that there were no holes in the ceiling, walls and floor and in fact, was the only one not  constructed as a lean to. The other bloggers were sitting in silence. Richard was playing with himself and bob was staring out of the window. Perhaps Richard's 'playing with himself' needs explanation. He was in fact humming to himself and fingering .... oops, you'll get the wrong idea again  ..... playing out an imaginary tune with his left hand. The Curmudgeon recognised this as a Czardas tune for double bass. "Bloody double bass" he thought. Richard (and bob) had been forbidden to bring their musical instruments on this 'retreat'. The Curmudgeon in turn agreed to leave his golf clubs at home. 

"Hi guys" the Curmudgeon said in greeting deciding to try and put their cheating, lying, disgusting, miserable, unfair, underhand, Garden Road gang-type and non P class behaviour behind him. Richard spied the glass of chardonnay in his hand and stopped his musical manipulations, instead, lifting his hand to his mouth forgetting that he didn't have a glass in it. bob stopped looking out of the window, turned around and said "He is risen".

""Oh boy" thought The Curmudgeon but, as he'd decided to move on suggested another game of snooker. The three had been playing snooker, pool and the occasional game of billiards the previous evening until Richard had dropped out. "Bloody snooker pool and billiards" he'd been heard to say before going to look for another bottle of wine. "It'd better not be a red wine" thought The Curmudgeon "the fridge is busted".

bob asked "how much do I owe you from the previous games?"

The Curmudgeon didn't even have to stop and think, he had the tally in his head. "Two hundred and twenty four million dollars, 7,480 sets of rosary beads and twelve hundred holy medals. I'll let you go on the scapulas." He could see bob's eyes going up and down like the images on a slot machine and waited him out.

"Wow!" said bob. "I wonder how much merchandise I can sneak out in my bag from the church store without Father Warren T. O'fissa noticing."

The Curmudgeon waited, knowing what was to come. bob slyly looked over to Richard before saying "Um, lets's forget about snooker, um, I noticed a board game over there amongst the jig-saw puzzles Chest or something."

"Community Chest? That's part of the game Monopoly. I'm up for that." said The Curmudgeon intending to see bob squirm.

"No, no, um chest,  um, um, um chess!" bob said at which Richard stopped looking for his secret stash of Marlborough chardonnay and looked over.

"Oh, chess, OK" said The Curmudgeon. "I've heard about that and saw a pretty good musical about it in London in the 1980s". bob smirked. Richard had found a bottle of Grapefruit Creek chardonnay 2021 and was now looking for a glass.

"Let' just play one game of this, um. chess. How about we double or nothing on the snooker, pool and billiards losses?"

The Curmudgeon thought about this for a moment and then agreed. "Let's do it" he said.

The chess board was duly set up. bob officiated, arranging for The Curmudgeon to sit on one side and him on the other. Richard was given the title of adjudicator and charged with the responsibility of setting up the board and playing pieces, ensuring that neither player pocketed pieces, kept the bowl of Danny's pita crisps (potato chips for bob) filled, made sure that wine glasses were kept to a maximum level (Bishop's Pizzle ale for bob) and that bob didn't tip the board over. It was a big responsibility but The Curmudgeon knew that guys educated in the G classes could handle this manual stuff. He made a mental note to ensure that Richard himself was topped up with that Marlborough chardonnay so that he didn't drink any of the Esk Valley Reserve chardonnay.

bob said to The Curmudgeon "you can be black as that's probably the state of your soul"

"A bit harsh" thought The Curmudgeon.

The game got underway.

bob was playing white and moved pawn g2 to g4

The Curmudgeon, trying to disguise his raised eyebrow by waving his hand over his face said "Flies?"

Richard quickly checked his pants and said "No, no. I'm fine."

The Curmudgeon moved his black pawn e7 to e5 making sure to knock over his precious glass of Esk Valley Reserve chardonnay in the process. "Oops, sorry" he said. bob and Richard quickly checked that their own 'precious' drinks were intact, took big sips and settled back.

bob, dribbling some Bishop's Pizzle from the corner of his mouth reached over and moved his white f2 pawn up into f3.

"Here bob" said The Curmudgeon handing bob a paper towel to wipe his mouth and, with his other hand moving his black queen from d8 to h4.

"Thanks" said bob offering the paper towel back.

"No, keep it" said The Curmudgeon "and, by the way, CHECKMATE".

bob tried to tip the board over but Richard, while checking that his flies weren't open had propped his foot up on the table and somehow anchored the board.

"Bugger" said bob and stormed off to his fancy/schmancy bedroom upstairs.

"Hee hee" thought The Curmudgeon, "there is a god after all" but then looked over to Richard and the realisation dawned that he'd have to share another night in the small bedroom with him.  

"Bugger" said The Curmudgeon and headed off to bed, grabbing the bottle of Esk Valley Reserve chardonnay on his way.

* Nothing to do with South American dancing.