A man once showed me a picture of what he claimed to be a horse-drawn carriage from the late 19th century. Of course, to that end, I calmly explained to him that no such thing was possible, for horses lack the artistic aptitude required for such detailed and accurate portrayals. He sneered, and said “You have no idea what kind of horse you’re working with here! He’s the best in all the land!” Of course, to such a laughable comment, I could only help myself but scoff and move on with my day.

Little did I know, the man was correct. For this was no ordinary horse. He was American Paint Horse. The breed of horse was named after him. I received a text, stating that the horse was approaching my home. What a trivial endeavor, I thought. Less than five seconds later, I could hear the faint sounds of hooves clicking against the front walk. I peeked through the front blinds, but saw nothing. Sighing in relief, I turned around as I locked eyes with a deeply intrinsic horse, clutching a paintbrush in his mouth. Far too scared to scream, I accepted fate as I crumbled onto the ground.

Now, you see, the horse was able to get past my defenses. Just how in our chess games, I’m sure my own horse will be able to breach yours with ease. Before you play me in chess, think to yourself- what’s the worst that can happen? Because I can assure you that you likely aren’t quite creative enough to truly envision what I am going to do to you. (I can see mate in 50. Stockfish once thought itself brave enough to play me; I was able to triple-fork its king, queen, and a rook. It resigned shortly thereafter).

TurtleRecords