Home > Royer's Madcap Experiences > Royer’s Madcap Experiences: The Checkers Grandmaster

Royer’s Madcap Experiences: The Checkers Grandmaster

October 23, 2013 Leave a comment Go to comments

By Ric Royer
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She was a checkers grandmaster.  Young, from some jerkwater Island town, a little on the cocky side.  She needed to be knocked down a peg.  I knew I was the man to do it.

She challenged me to a match.  I put a bunch of gum in my mouth and started snapping it loudly, nodding in between snaps.  I knew something she didn’t.

Then, I pushed five of my pieces suddenly over towards the left side of the board.  Some of them fell off.  I leaned back.

“That’s right,” I said.  I snapped the gum and winked.

“You can’t do that,” she countered, in her thick, jerkwater accent.  “You can only move one piece at a time.”

“FUCK THAT SHIT.  That ain’t how we play in LANKVILLE”.  I got real loud towards the end of the sentence.  “You don’t like it, you can haul your little ass on back to the islands or wherever the hell you’re from.”

And then I knew I had her.  And then I had her.

We smoked a bunch of cigarettes and stared at the patterned stucco ceiling in some derelict hotel room.  There was the noise of something large and conical being slammed repeatedly into the wall of the room next door.  I yelled for the asshole to can it and for awhile it was quiet but then the conical slamming started up again.

Later, I would wait for the guy and beat an apology out of him.  But for now, I turned up the TV and held the grandmaster in my arms.

There was a show on about a canoe that was attacking a beach with explosives.  Some people in spacesuits were hiding in bushes.  I couldn’t make head or tail of it but the grandmaster seemed to like it.  “We don’t have the TV in my country,” she said.  “There are radio shows about the farms and people sit around and listen.  But we don’t have the TV.”

“Shut the fuck up,” I said.  “Don’t talk in hotel rooms.  It’s improper.”

I couldn’t think of anything else to say after that.

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