Daily Chess Planet editor Parry White threw his office door open and
barked into his reporter pool, "Slane! Some kid's phone just rang at the
big kids' tournament downtown, and now he's suspected of cheating. Get
your butt down there, and take a photographer with you!"

"I'm on it, Chief," said intrepid reporter Slois Slane. "C'mon, Jimmy."

"Righto, Miss Slane," said cub photographer Jimmy Lolsen, who started
fumbling through his pockets. "Wait a second, Miss Slane! I have to get
rid of my cellphone, Blackberry, and other electronic devices!"

On their way to the downtown hotel, Slane and Lolsen walked past a strip
joint, where legendary chess/gymnastics coach Kent Gordo Clarker was on
his way out the door. Inside, several strippers were gazing at him
dreamily. "Oh, how he stood out, and how appealing he became by not
tipping me!" they thought.

"Golly, Miss Slane! There's Mr. Kent Gordo Clarker, legendary chess slash
gymnastics coach!" said Jimmy.

"Hello, Jimmy," said Clarker. "Have you downloaded my free e-book on how
to score with hot strippers and Michelle Pfeiffer yet?"

"Uh, well, gee, Mr. Clarker," said Jimmy, blushing.

"C'mon, Jimmy," said Slane, "that story downtown about the kid's cellphone
ringing at the chess tournament is too hot!"

"Right! Sorry, Mr. Clarker, we have to... huh?" Jimmy had turned his head,
but Kent Gordo Clarker was gone!

At the kids' chess tournament downtown, the integrity of the $1 billion
event was in danger because a 5-year-old was suspected of receiving
assistance on his cellphone. "B-b-but I g-got it for my birfday,"
stammered the little kid, blinded by bright lights and deprived from
bathroom breaks.

"He's sticking to his story, sir," said one of the cops. "Want us to beat
him up again?"

"Damn it!" said the lead investigator. "You mean this little hood gets off
with nothing but a forfeited game?!"

Suddenly a gust of movement swept through the interrogation room, and the
detainee was gone! "Look! Up in the sky!" said one of the cops, pointing
out the window.

It was the Masked Bishop! Powerful visitor from another planet, fighting
for truth and justice, and against organized chess crime! The Masked
Bishop was zooming into the stratosphere with the kid, who was suddenly
defiant. "You ain't got nothing on me, flying around in your underpants
because you can't get no job," the kid said smugly.

"You are defaming me and violating the ethics code," said the Masked
Bishop, who dropped the kid from a mile high. "Jimmy!" yelled Slois Slane.
"Got it, Miss Slane!" said Jimmy, firing off several camera shots.

In the air, the kid spilled it. "AUUUUGH! OK, OK! The chess mafia wanted
to text message my move from several super analysis engines but dialed my
phone instead!"

"What about your defamation?" said the Masked Bishop, hovering in space.
"I am employed and work my ass off, while studying chess eight to 10 hours
a day, and I would've been world champion today if the Samford Fellowship
committee hadn't ignored me while I was 10 years older and 1000 points
lower-rated than the other candidates!"

"OK! I'm sorrrrrr----" SPLAT! The kid hit the downtown street with a
sickening thud. The heads from the hotel windows went back inside. Serves
the cheater right, they mumbled, getting back to their games.

Slois Slane and Jimmy Lolsen bolted for the hotel doors to get the rest of
the story. Upstairs they found a crowd of angry parents and coaches
surrounding the lead organizer, including Kent Gordo Clarker! Slane did a
doubletake, swiveling her head back and forth from the direction of the
strip joint to the hotel. "How...?!" she started.

"Just here looking out for my chess students, Slois," said Clark Gordo
Kent, winking at the audience through the fourth wall.

--
Frisco Del Rosario
A First Book of Morphy -- http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/1412039061

D+ at best. You can do better.

kiddon

D-.

I'm the best chess journalist in the world. I was the first to break
the news about Leko's death. No one can ever claim that.

Sam Sloan