Glad you had a good time
Chad plays a chess tournament
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Wow
nice
Do anxiety pills work?
My palms are sweaty as I enter the dimly lit room, orange light reflects off cheap chess boards atop plastic tables. My shoes squeak as I step into the arena, the rubberized ground installed the night prior; I can tell because the smell of plastic fills my nostrils like an unwanted guest at a dinner party. A small white card lays on a table a few paces afront me, the words "Chad" printed in blank ink accompanied by "unrated" lets me know that I have found my opponent. He's a fellow of interesting complexion, his skin smooth like the moon on a summer's eve, his eyes sharp like a hunting lion. A brown, mahogany chair across the table from him; I pull it out and sit. Face to face, I see a competitor ready to wage war, his eyebrows furrow at me as he sticks out his hand for a pre-competition handshake, customary in the world of chess.
"Hi," he says. "My name's Taylor, I'm 8 years old. What's your name?"
I question whether or not to engage in his mind games as his hand lingers over the board. I try to examine his intentions, is he trying to psyche me out? I reflect on my Introduction to Psychology class that I dropped after one lecture, and determine he's using a Fruedian technique on me and neglect his handshake. I open my gym bag I have laying next to my feet, which wear the new Nike Airmax's clean retro white's; I found them on Craigslist for half the price than what they retail, the only caveat is the swoosh is upside down but you can't see unless you're really close, so that's not a problem.
The lion, the hunter, the competitor before me retracts his hand in shame, as I have now used reverse psychology to get in his head, if an engine could see this it would clearly say I have the advantage as of now. I reach in my gym bag and extract a blue tub of creatine.
"What's that?" Taylor, or at least that's what he told me his name was, asks.
"Ha," I laugh in his face. "Of course you wouldn't now what this is, beta male."
Asserting my dominance, my advantage increases as I dry-scoop 320mg of creatine. I'm mega-dosing to improve my concentration for the match against this clear master of psychosis before me. My mouth is chalky, I left my juicer at home because my mom didn't wake me up when I asked her to, so I was in a rush and could only eat 4 raw eggs the morning off. I swear, if it affects my match negatively, my mother will pay.
I wipe the left-over powder from my mouth and play e5, a devastating move I know he wasn't expecting. My opponent immediately shows his beta-male tendencies as he rubs his chin, clearly perplexed. In just the first opening move, I have stumped a supposed master of the game. As I wait for him to return his move to initiate the game, he raises his hand and looks around the room, confused.
Funny, he wants to embarrass himself publicly? Fine by me...
Another beta-male comes over, I know because I can smell the soy coming off his pores.
"Um, excuse me." Taylor says. "I think he, uh, Chad, just made an illegal move."
I begin to laugh hysterically. Is this what it really has come to? My opening repertoire so elite that my opponent's result to calling me a cheater? It's not my first rodeo, I know this trick; people in the gym say I'm a fraud and use steroids because I have an 8-pack and only work biceps. What can I say, haters are gonna hate. Clearly, Taylor is just another hater.
The soy-boy beta male "rules official" looks over the board. Creatine powder puffs from my mouth as I smack my lips in eager anticipation of my grandmaster title awarding - I have been waiting for this moment since i started playing chess this morning.
"Hmm," The soy-boy beta male purrs like a cat. Pathetic. "Well, sir, it does appear you made an illegal move and, well, by rule you're disqualified and Taylor wins."
I begin to laugh hysterically. My mother tells me I have an abnormally high IQ, so it takes me longer to process things because my brain is essentially working at ten-times the speed of yours and these soyboys before me. Instinctively, I tip over the table and go to rip my shirt off, however I realize I wasn't wearing a shirt to begin with because I woke up with a sick chest pump. I quickly pound out 25 pushups to assert dominance and head to the trophy stand across the room to collect my prize and winnings. Clearly, these two soyboy beta males are trying to steal my win from me. At this point, there's no reason to continue playing in the tournament because the room reeks of soy, nobody can beat me.
As I stomp towards the prize table, the woman's eyes behind the table widen. Immediate, I sense fear and go into a Cobra-Kai striking pose (I'm a big fan of the show, and watching it increases my testosterone levels as well as gives me techniques on how to handle beta males, and / or females.)
Suddenly, I'm tackled to the ground and flipped on my back. I'm face to face with ... someone I know.
It's Brad.
"Bro?" I whimper. My knee is hurt, unfortunate this looks like I'll have to skip leg day again.
"Bro." Brad says to me, staring me deeply into my eyes.
"Bro." I say, defeated.
Brad restrains my wrists with zip-ties and picks me up, I always knew his pylo squat was better than mine. He ushers me outside, I feel his strong hand gripping my wrists.
"Bro," I say. "When did you become a security guard?"
"Bro." Brad says, assertively. "I gotta pay for my creatine and whey some how, right?"
His words hit me like a thunder bolt from Zues. How much creatine and protein powder is Brad dry-scooping that he has to take a job to pay for it? Doesn't his mom's allowance pay for everything?
Then it hits me... Brad is outworking me.
I begin to cry in shame. Brad pats me on the back, and I feel my rear-deltoid muscle group concentrate. Always making gains.
The police arrive and I don't fit in the back seat. A small smile creeps upon my face as I see Brad giving me a thumbs up from the chess tournament room. The charges brought against me are assault, indecent exposure, and criminal mischief. I pleaded the judge give me the maximum sentence once I heard there's a free gym in state prison. Gains will be absolutely gnarly.
-fin