One waits - too long. In the sun. Alone. With no mate. In one.
ArtFizz or Hemingway?

Art sat in the tournament hall and watched the other players in the distance and there was no sound but the scraping of chairs on the floor and a few footsteps. Years before he remembered that there had been mechanical clocks and the ticking would be everywhere in the tournament hall but now there was only silence and he took another drink of his whisky and thought of other days.
Alone.

... but now there was only silence and he took another drink of his whisky and thought of other days.
Enormous_Gastropod wrote: Alone.
... apart from the Rodriguez - the blind, lame matador who could never resist saying Olé whenever he took a chesspiece. A giant snail slid mournfully over the piazza outside - world-weary, shell-shocked - his molluscular body glistening in the dying rays.

For luck ArtFizz carried a chestnut Queen in his right pocket. The woodgrain had been worn down long ago and the edges were polished by the wear. The Queen's tiara peaks scratched in the lining of his pocket and he knew his luck was still there.

For luck ArtFizz carried a chestnut Queen in his right pocket. The woodgrain had been worn down long ago and the edges were polished by the wear. The Queen's tiara peaks scratched in the lining of his pocket and he knew his luck was still there.
"Is that a queen in your pocket - or are you just pleased to see me?", he scratched out; the line wasn't quite right, not as taut. Many were pleased to see him ... go, but oddly that did not include Polydat (his odd-toed cat).

- I will not eat them with a mouse.
- I will not eat them in a house.
- I will not eat them here or there.
- I will not eat them anywhere.
- I do not eat green eggs and ham.
- I do not like them, Sam-I-am.


A delightful pickle to be in. Apparently.

Hemingway's style is certainly evolving.
Some say Art Fizz bears a resemblance to George Lucas. I see a distant relation to Earnest Hemingway.