OK, one of you get online and win your way into that tournament. [no one moves] What's the hold up?
We don't play chess.
Not anymore.
Why the hell not?!
Why are we looking at a coat hook?
That is not a coat hook; that is a coat rook. Wound up in this wall five years ago.
After a week-long chess tournament.
A tournament that went horribly wrong.
You threw a rook in the wall?
Wasn't me.
Nope.
It was a three-way tie for points! I was about to engage a masterful attack: the bishop's gambit. But then Walter sneezed on my knight.
It was an accident.
J'accuse! My knight was covered in your mucus. The one piece I needed just happened to be the one you doused with your filth.
One, I do not have the ability to aim my mucus. Two, you could have cleaned it off.
Not without touching it! I played half the game with a dead pony!
At checkmate, Sly whipped this rook at Walt's head.
Not a half-bad arm.
It was unbecoming.
So we vowed never to play the game again for the sake of the team, and our friendship.
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