Chess. It’s a game. People play it. Masters win it. Sometimes there’s clocks. Typically it’s only two colors. And a skid-mark from a tire screeches and burns a rubber line in the pavement landing directly onto the chess board — piece flying everywhere — cracking it in half. Sunglasses pulled down. Eye contact.
Flamingo Vapor rises from our hero’s nostrils as the angel-winged door automatically shuts behind his silhouette against the sunset. A double-take become a triple-take becoming a double-take, all in one complete take: Ben Zimmerman in a white three-piece suit, white tie. Everything has been slowmotion this entire time.
A white, still-burning pawn piece lands in his hand, so he draws it close to a caterpillar mustache suckin’ on a lefty, which he lights and plumes smoke that he writes Vape$4Je$u$ into with a finger. Dice: