Summer 2006

 

 

 


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etude #4
Clint Weathers

Randy slammed his hand down on the table, making the chess pieces jump.
“Take your dick out of the game!” he shouted.  “It doesn’t matter if they’re watching, it doesn’t matter if you look cool, it doesn’t matter if you hit the clock with the piece you just took, or if anyone sees a goddamned thing!”  Randy fumed for a moment, pointed a finger in my face and went on.  “You…you want everyone to think you’re some kind of fucking genius, that you’re so goddamned talented that all you have to worry about is how cool you are.  Well guess what?  You’re wasting your time with that bullshit, and you’re fucking wasting mine.”  Randy slammed a rook on to my back rank, stood up and pressed the button on the chess clock. Looking at me with venom that I could taste he spat, “Checkmate, asshole”  and stormed out of the coffeehouse.

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