the never ending chess story

And then he proceeded to demonstrate:

The demo board was completely demolished, ground up and used to feed egos.

...but the destroyer of all things evil will be back to destroy the new demo...

The tiny little pieces turned into the little blobs and the detroyers got eaten by the baby blobs.

this can be easily be related to The Darkest Hour movie.

...then someone (finally) told winnersp that his 3 minutes were up.

Wow! This sounds like an awesome game. Is it available only on PS3 or only on XBox?

...asked wishi, as he burst into the never ending chess story room.

And AndyClifton finds himself still suffering in this never-ending hell...

...so Faulkner started posting huge rambling blocks of text in the vainglorious attempt to recreate the type of literature so common before the great war when Colonel Sutpin sat on a pin and pawned his pawns that reminded him so much of the way the Yankees swam the Yagtzee and played Yahtzee with stale cat pee but couldn't get the nerve up to ask a cute foreigner just what a chessboard covered with hand drawn diagrams meant to anyone who was not entirely schizophrenic, not that anyone is entirely schizophrenic this early in the morning, before old Saint Nick claws his way up the chimney in order to escape the constant posting of rambling nonsense on what may well be the worst thread in the history of chess dot com if not the internet itself, an idea that was found entirly unacceptable to Ebenezer Fartknuckle and his crumb cake brigade, which never was the same after the sacking of Yazoo City by that awful General Grunt, who later became one of the most notorious presidents to preside over a dent, not unlike the one on my car that I got in the parking lot where I work, not that I could prove who did what, now that the security cameras are made entirely out of blocks of cheese carved by tiny mice into chess sets that hum and haw and bray like dingbats all night long with their sleep apnea and foolish japery...

my god, Faulkner lives.

...Chess.com member wishi exclaimed, still evidently blissfully unaware of the format of the never ending chess story (even if he was reportedly blessed with a titanically tumescent member of his own).

and then I closed the book, having found myself by mistake in the porn section...

All your base belong to us now!

...would perhaps be someone smart enough not to spam a bunch of BS in a story about something else, what that "else" is, is not quite known, though it has nothing to do with Buckaroo Bonsai in the 24th dimension with crakpot lottery schemes or code busting the secrets of the universe from my couch with half a bottle of Jack Daniels and some leftover turkey giblets mashed into a heap of gelatinous goo...

and so I seriously left the room and began my search...

...for whatever it was that Spudnik took to start blasting away like Lord Buckley or something, like maybe that was his own personal Owsley Memorial, like he was really bent on ensuring his entry into the Ergot Hall of Fame, and, not long after I pondered (and gave up on) the question of how a parrot could ever become a snail herder, I turned to wondering about Political Science, like what even is it anyway?--and all I kept picturing was a bunch of guys in lab coats working with this test group, like a room full of Hitlers, taking away their lebensraum one week and then forcing them to wear yarmulkes for a day or whatever and noting down the changes in their subjects in some workbook somewhere and then later on comparing all the data assiduously with their control group of Mussolinis and writing up learned reports, and by that point winnersp's little diagrams were actually starting to make sense to me so I knew that the stuff (whatever it was) had really kicked in good...

and in a drunken stupor, I stumbled forth. To find...

...a nightmare of a different kind....