A large man wearing a two hundred-dollar suit sat in a soft cushioned chair sipping Cream de Coca.  Leaning back in the chair he said to his assistant Smidly, "It is the duty of decent people to band together to annihilate degenerates and perverts from our society.  Their very existence threatens our abundant way of life!"

Smidly, a tall thin well-dressed man, was busy setting up a chess set.  He placed each piece into its appropriate square with a respectful delicacy, handling them with a reverence that seemed ingrained into his soul.  The white pieces were silver painted images in the European royal court style.  The black pieces were tarnished brown wooden carvings in the standard Stanton style.  When Smidly was finished preparing the playing area, he said, "Everything is ready.  The man is waiting, sir."

The large man straightened his body and stared straight ahead, psyching his mind to perform a grave duty.  "Yes, send him in", he answered with a hint of anticipation in his voice.

Smidly left and returned with a frazzled man in a plain brown T-shirt and baggy pants.  He walked into the room like a brain washed zom-bie; memories of an ill thought out life racing through his mind.  He was desperately trying to form a rational justification for the events that led to his present dilemma.  He had a logical mind; he was an expert chess player.  Deep inside, he always believed in a logical explanation for every mystery of the universe.  With a burst of resolution he stepped forward and asked, "May I have this game, sir?

"Granted" said the large man in a condescending voice.

"May I have white?" he asked, with a faint hope in his voice.

"Today you are black", the large man decreed, shattering his hope of gaining the initiative.  The frail man's body lowered itself onto the chair, tentatively, hanging on the edge.  Slowly, the large man's plump fingers reached out and grabbed the silver king's pawn and moved it forwards two squares.

The wretched man gazed upon the chessboard with a x-ray type in-tensity.  Through his mind flashed images of positions arising from various chess openings, the Sicilian, the French, and the Pric? "I must strive for a solid position", he told himself, as the nearly infinite combinations and possibilities of chess whirled through his mind in endless cyclic logic.

"Move!" exclaimed the large man, "I'm a busy man and your time is limited."

The large man's word's jolted him into an instant thoughtless response.  He impulsively pushed his king's pawn forward two squares.  As soon as his hand left the piece, an uneasy feeling rushed though his being.  This move could lead to an open game.  He knew too well what an open position could mean to his plight.

The large man moved quickly with an air of confidence displaying an inner self-identity of absolute perfection.  He moved the knight to right of his king, to the square directly in front of his king's bishop. "Smidly, is everything ready?"

"'I will make the final preparations, sir", he replied with a glowing smile, revealing the pleasure of serving.  He left the room, bowing politely.

The perturbed man watched with terror as the aide left the room.  In an obvious charade of composure he moved his queenside knight in front of his queen's bishop's pawn.  The modern trend of opening theory gives white the best chance of winning by responding with the king's bishop, moving it diagonally four squares threatening to pin black's queen's knight.  So, he prepared himself for the positional complexities of the Spanish game.  He stared in disbelief as the large man slid his bishop only 3 squares diagonally.  Now, he need only duplicate his opponent's move to enter the Guacio Piano, (the quiet game), which would give him the best chance of survival through a draw.  As he reached for his bishop to oppose the white bishop with his own, a sudden self destructive urge overwhelmed him.   It was the same subconscious nemesis that haunted him throughout his life.  Impulsive muscles snatched his king's knight and moved it two squares to the left of his other knight.  He gasped in frantic, disbelief.  The Two Knights' defense, an opening, which could lead to the most violent combinations in chess!  Awareness of the precarious position his rashness had placed him in, sparked a nervous reaction to sputter throughout his body.  This spasmodic reaction ran down to his toes as he began tapping his feet on the highly polished tile floor.  "Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap", pounding into the floor a physiological desire to somehow bring stability to his life.  He tapped in a fretful rhythm.  "Tap, tap, tap", louder and louder the redundant monotone asserted itself.

The large man moved without care and seemingly without thought.  He boldly moved his king's knight two squares forward and one square to the right.  The pale frightened man pushed his queen's pawn forward two squares and his opponent took the queen's pawn with his king's pawn.

Tapping faster and more frenzied the general of the black army was perplexed, his knowledge of opening theory told him that he should move the endangered knight, giving up a pawn in return for a more solid position.  Against his best judgement, his desire for material prevailed.  This was one of his chronic frailties, the urge for material possession.  Of all his character defects, this one seemed to plague him the most, a macabre reoccurring theme in his life's surreal nightmare.  Knowing the danger, but being swayed by inner folly and greed, he captured white's pawn with his knight.  He shuttered when the large man took his king's bishop's pawn with the advanced knight.  White was now giving up a piece. The idea of this sacrifice was to weaken black's position by luring his king to the center of the board, where it was vulnerable to attack.  Now, the desperate man had no choice; he captured the brazen knight with his king. In a frightened voice he whimpered, "The Fried Liver Attack!"

The large man laughed with a sadistic frenzy.  As if this was his cue, Smidly entered carrying a large black box.  He put the box down and opened it.  Inside was a conglomeration of assorted electronic equipment and leather straps.  The man shuttered when he saw Smidly sorting though the box and accelerated the tapping into a screeching crescendo.  "This tapping must stop", proclaimed the large man, "It's disturbing my concentration."

"Very well, sir", Smidly responded dutifully.  He pulled a leather strap out of the black box and obediently bound both of the man's ankles to the chair.  "Would you like your meal?" Smidly asked the subdued man.  The only outlet for his anxiety blocked, the troubled man nodded his head in anticipation of any diversion.

"I'll have cream cheese and celery", he replied.  Smidly nodded and left the room as the large man slammed down his queen in front of his bishop's pawn and called, "Check."

Black's king was pushed, by shaking fingers, forward one square diagonally towards the center of the board.  "Why? Why?" he told himself over and over again.  It seemed that any plan or resolution that he made during his confused life always got diverted, somehow, into a situation which was the opposite of his original intention.  This incongruity haunted him throughout his life.  Somehow, he found himself in one of the most precarious positions in the repertoire of chess openings, when it was his original intention to strive for a solid position.  As open and dangerous his position, he was still ahead in material, with precise play he should win.

The self-assured man developed his queen's knight threatening black's pinned knight.  The man defended by moving his free knight one square in front of his king's own square.  When white castled, black pushed his queen bishop's pawn one square forward.  "Could white be losing the initiative?" thought the pusher of the black pieces.

Smidly returned carrying a tray of celery and cream cheese.  The nervous energy that caused the tapping was converted into a compulsive crunching of celery.  "Crunch, crunch, crunch", reverberated this grating noise in the same rhythm as the tapping.  Smidly gestured to his boss as if to ask if he should remove the offending vegetable.  But his boss shook his head in a negative way.  Ingrained commitment to tradition kept him from depriving the man of his meal in spite of the annoying noise.  Smidly watched with a nonchalant stare, making it apparent that the outcome of the game was a predetermined conclusion.

White's rook slid one square to the left and black pushed his powerful female monarch diagonally right, directly in front of his cleric.  The man felt more relaxed as his position became more and more stable.  He knew that if he could stabilize his position then his material advantage would prevail.  Suddenly, the battlefield broke out into a fury of attacking pieces. The White knight pounced on the black knight fighting for the control of the center.  The frail man's pawn took the impertinent knight in tempo to the machine gun like crunching of celery.White's bishop took the pawn and the large man said, "Check".

"How could he sacrifice an other piece?", the desperate man thought as he took the bishop with his knight. He watch in astonishment as the White queen took his knight on the highly contested center square.

The largeman said calmly, "Check."

The crunching of celery stopped! Though his mind ran many possible combinations. He pondered, "Why would white give up his queen?" Slowly the realization set in; his opponent had nothing. The queen and eventually the game were his.

In triumph, he moved his king into the square occupied by his opponent's queen.  "I've got your queen", the man shouted. He was glowing somehow he had managed to free himself from a perilous position.

"Smidly, I lost my queen, I'll have another".  The large man casually requested.

"Very well sir", replied Smidly, reaching into the black box and retrieving another white queen.  Routinely he handed it to his boss.

Placing the queen three squares directly in front of the rook he said, "Check."

"You can't do that", shouted the man, "It's against the rules!"

"I make the rules", Proclaimed the large man.

"It is your moral duty to be fair."

"It is my civic duty to win this game!"

His elation shattered. He now sank into a depression, so deep, that he nearly lost all awareness. Voices ran widely though his mind. "Why are they playing with me like this? Why do they take the time and expense to carry out this sham? No matter how much I struggle and squirm, my fate is sealed."

"Your time is running out.  I am an important man, move!  This is your last reprieve."

Slowly, he regained composure, as the nervous munching of celery began a new.  This was his only diversion from the reality of his almost certain doom. If only he could put his opponent in checkmate then the justice of his cause would become evident.

The following moves were made swiftly, in a musical rhythm.  There were five loud checks, putting the unfortunate man's king on the run.   "Check!, check! !, check!!!, check!!!!, check!!!!!, said the large man, more and more passionately, to the background of the intense crunching of celery.  Suddenly, everything became quiet as it became evident that white had run out of checks.  With a hint of frustration the large man moved his rook to the seventh rank, sweat oozing from his fat fingers.  Hope and elation released adrenaline though out the desperate man's body as his mind gleaned a combination leading to checkmate. He went over and over the sequence of moves in his head until it dawned on him that he had won the game.  He declared, "Mate in two!"

The large man smiled.  "Smidly, it's time I 'm bored."

"All is ready sir", replied Smidly.  He pulled out a large leather strap and some dangerous looking electrical equipment.  He tied and bound his victim and plugged in an electrical jack into a socket in the chair.

The large man moved his bishop and king at the same time, surrounding the black king.  "Checkmate!" declared the large man.  He stood up and said, "Now, Smidly!"

Smidley opened a metal switch box.  He casually pulled down the switch.  Thousands of volts of electricity bolted thought the man's body.  The air stunk with the odors of burned flesh and excrement.  The poor man shuttered in terror as visions of a troubled life raced though his awareness.  Soon terror turned into peace, as he was relieved of all earthly pain and misery.

Smidly approached the large man shaking his hand.  "Congratulations governor, a well executed game.