I got something the other day. After a glass of x knows what and four men had to haul the logs out of the corner, we all might say we got something— But really, it was I, I got it. It started when the king fell over. "No way to play chess" I said, referring mostly to myself. But I hadn't pushed him and indeed not a single other game had finished, so they said. I saw a few pretty close to that viperously invisible path, which just grows . That's why I thought, I'd go chopping—chopping up growth and piling it somewhere to use later. someone writes redly in books about that sort of thing. The leaves fell, big, while I chopped. Soon kings slumped, their strong trunks chinked, their roots grappling far underground, supporting what wouldn't need support. Or did the roots hold Earth to its spacey sheets? I stacked the logs for later as I mentioned, in the corner, and propped myself at their base, unsure who else had seen them; so many. I heard the kings whisper, "That was someone else's strategy."