Tuesday, July 20, 2010

Knight to flash 4
















My entry this week is so bad, it's like the World Trade went down.

"Looking at it from your/their/his/her point of view, then yeah, I would be pissed also." Does anybody remember laughing at the Brundlefly/telepod mashup, no of course you youngins don't. Well hell that was only three, I quietly thought to myself at the time. A low-volume thought hides well from overly interested ears and, for the initiated, is a treasure easily found amidst the general cacophony of the addled mind, unaided by the dissonance of day-to-day shellshock. But it takes practice --

"Here he goes again."

"Johnny! Be nice to your grandpa!"

-- long hours of blood and sweat, metaphorical of course, because who bleeds when they're thinking unless they've been shot, blown to bits or worst of all, removed from the board? So get started now, kids. Where was I? Oh, yes.

Doesn't mean my fellow minion wasn't right.

"Is that what you told her at the time?"

I don't know. Even when I had the chance, I don't know.

I can't remember.

It was hard to discern her exact words so far back in the line. I crawled closer, crossing a square of surprisingly crater-free Yorkshire fog, sharing black quips of trench foot and our inevitable end. Momentarily safe behind its four walls, we didn't get even one, impatience continued creeping from the castle denizens -- we felt it, your/their/his/her waiting with baying, accusatory breath. My comrade spoke again, one last time, a short lull in the exchanging fusillades permitting her whisper to reach my tired ears.

"You know that feeling when you wake up sweating and think 'thank goodness it was only a dream'?" We longed for that feeling as an ecclesiastical enclave rushed past, soon followed by a whirling, feminine blur. Our eyes met, exhausted globes haphazardly streaked in crimson, soon led off to who-knows-where, prisoners-of-that-godforsaken-war.

In the distance I saw all kinds of birds circling over something, but I couldn't tell what from where I was. As our conquerors, with a funereal sloth, marched us past the carnage, we saw, at last, we saw.

"Grandpa, what did you see?"

The king was dead. Long live the king.

15 comments:

Cormac Brown said...

Sigh, you are beyond synopsis, Randal.

OH, LE BRON! Sorry, I'm tired and am on satellite-delay.

Tengrain said...

Graves, you swine!

You know that feeling when you wake up sweating and think 'thank goodness it was only a dream' -- that describes my reaction everytime you post.

Glenn Beck is lucky he is going blind, btw.

Regards,

Tengrain

Demeur said...

And what would you do for a Klondike bar? Just like Charlie Brown you'll let Lucy set you up one more time only to watch your hopes dashed. Laying there on the ground at the end of the season all bleary eyed wondering where the star player went but yet again defeat was snatched from the jaws of victory. And you'll forget it all until Lucy tees up the ball once more in the fall.

Randal Graves said...

cormac, checkmate. And this has nothing to do with LeJerk, swear.

tengrain, monkeyspanking has its good points too, I won't have to read what I type any longer.

demeur, this has nothing to do with LeJerk, swear. Giant chessboards!

MRMacrum said...

Is this the tale you'll tell your grandkids about the sad state of Cleveland pro sports around the turn of the century?

The King is not dead. He is the lot boy over to the BK in Sanford. Well, at least his hair is. Or was it Roy Orbison I saw?

TomCat said...

You date me. I remember that scene. :-(

S.W. Anderson said...

I can honestly say I've never been accused of anything like laughing at a Brundlefly/telepod mashup — and no one had better try.

Sheesh.

Beach Bum said...

That telepod thing was a bummer but dammit Brundlefly was able to get laid plenty of times afterward.

A seriously great story!

Mary Ellen/Nunly said...

Tengrain- you always make me laugh! :-D

I'm not sure what this is all about (as usual) but it sounds like the people with the accusatory breath could use a mint. And please tell me...the king is the Burger King dude, right? I hate that creepy guy.

Tom Harper said...

Is that picture at the top supposed to be some sort of giant outdoor chessboard? A person could be a chess geek and still have a tan.

Sue H said...

Hey - Tom Harper! I'm married to a chess geek and yes - he does have a tan! :-p

Randal, beloved library fiend - I'm not entirely sure what I just read (the red wine is beginning to kick in!) but it seemed to make a sort of sense for once..... (maybe it was the wine after all ...) ;-)

Tim said...

Yeah I loved Elvis too...ahuh

susan said...

You mean to say somebody finally 'forgot' to plug in Cheney's charger but there was yet another monster waiting in the wings?

Randal Graves said...

mrmacrum & tim, thankyouthankyouverrymuch.

tomcat, hell, *I* remember that scene. We're not that old, dammit.

SWA, remember when Brundlefly and the telepod got all squooshy? Hardee har har.

BB, when you can threaten injury or death via an acid-like saliva, you can pretty much rule the world.

nunly, if John Wayne Gacy had been infatuated with fast food, he'd be the BK king.

tom, who says chess ain't sexy?

sue, it's in secret library code, so don't tell anyone what really happened.

susan, Cheney as chess piece would be far too disruptive to the game's competitive balance.

Nicole E. Hirschi aka CJT said...

Wow Randal, you just reminded me of how much of a little kid I am compared to most everyone...