Saturday Story

A bit of a change from normal bloggy times, here is a short story I wrote last night.
PS. Why doesn't MySpace let you indent?

Monday in the Park
By Jeff Crocker

I might as well have been staring into the sun, that's how I felt I was spending my time. Instead, I was in the park playing chess with a ninety year old man that was lecturing me about the greatest generation and manners and cell phones and oh-my-god-just-please-make-a-move-so-this-game-will-end-before-you-do.
"You know what I mean, kid?"
I grunted and motioned a hand for him to make his move. Subtlety is a specialty of mine, as is patience, and when I start to run short of both, someone walks around with a shiner and crooked nose the next day no matter what your age.
"It's like people your age, not you of course-"
Of course.
"-just don't even pay attention to what is going on around them."
I am going to try and psychically move his rook now. Rook. Rook. Rook.
"When I was a child, we had plenty to do all day and didn't need video games and cell phones and Tama-gotchees!"
Rookrookrookrookrookrookrookrookrookrookrook.
The man moved his pawn one square forward and the glossy plastic non-denominational foot soldier appeared to politely ask to be taken off the playing field.
I understand your pain, sweet pawn. Unfortunately, like me, you will be made to suffer.
If I hated myself, I would sit here and see how long it took him to notice me not touching a single piece on the board. But I'm a completist- I will end what I begin whether I llike it or not. I'm pretty sure at one time and ex-girlfriend called that my greatest asset (which is why she broke up with me), and it clearly is my greatest weakness as well.
"Oh, is it my move?"
I held up a hand indicating a polite, "please hold," when I really wanted to indicate an impolite, "are you fucking kidding me?"
"It's like all that global warming nonsense they talk about in the papers all the time. I've been alive for ninety three years and the weather feels the same every year. Hot in the summer, cold in the winter, varying degrees of both in between."
Every chess board in the park was being used right now and I wondered if the other seats were smoldering with sulfur like mine was right now. I've been having epiphanies about god for every religion since this game started.
First there was no God. Then no Jesus or Muhammed. In the second hour I gave up on Buddha and the Halle Bop comet, and now I was even considering dropping Joe Smith, but didn't want to be too hasty.
"My brigade in the second great war was the meanest, toughest sons of bitches in the whole damn European theater, from D-Day to Berlin. You're goddamnright we were tough as nails."
Seriously? Am I on a reality show? You know how in high school they name all the seniors 'most likely to' something? I felt like I was just voted most likely to die and be stuck in purgatory on a beautiful day playing chess with someone who will never ever stop talking forever. In reality, next to my sad picture of me in a ill-fitting sports coat, under a list of extracurricular activities and sports I was in, it says, "Most likely to be an expatriate."
I wish I had been in the chess club.