Tag: Humor Writing

  • How Many Queens Is Too Many Queens?

    How Many Queens Is Too Many Queens?

    Screenshot

    The answer, apparently, is still not enough.

    I was playing a game against Dr. Wolf when something extraordinary happened. One pawn promoted. Then another. And another. Before long, my side of the board looked less like a chess game and more like a constitutional crisis in a matriarchal kingdom.

    At one point I had five queens on the board.

    Five.

    The black king sat on e2, contemplating his life choices while surrounded by enough royal women to form a small government.

    What aggravated me most was that despite commanding what was essentially an entire dynasty, I still had to be careful. Anyone who has ever played chess knows that having overwhelming material – especially overwhelming material of the most powerful piece – doesn’t automatically mean victory. In fact, it’s surprisingly easy to blunder into stalemate when your army consists of multiple queens all trying to help at the same time.

    The saying “too many cooks spoil the broth” has never been more appropriate. The game ended in stalemate nine times before I finally managed to checkmate the king.

    The screenshot above captures the aftermath. The game is effectively over. The black king has nowhere meaningful to go, while my queens occupy strategic squares across the board like overenthusiastic wedding planners coordinating the same event.

    And yet, looking at the position made me think about something beyond chess.

    Sometimes in life we spend so much time worrying about what we’re missing that we fail to notice how much we’ve already accumulated. We focus on the piece that was captured, the opportunity that disappeared, or the plan that went wrong. Meanwhile, there may already be four queens on our side of the board.

    Experience.

    Wisdom.

    Resilience.

    Skills we didn’t have a year ago.

    Proof that we survived every position life has thrown at us so far.

    The goal isn’t necessarily to collect queens, of course. But every now and then, it’s worth pausing to appreciate just how far your pawns have travelled.

    After all, every queen on that board started life as a humble pawn.

    And if you’re wondering whether five queens is too many queens, the answer is simple:

    When your opponent’s king is still standing, the correct number of queens is always one more.

    Preferably before accidentally stalemating the opponent’s king again.

  • Dating.com: How I Went Looking for Love and Left as a Lesbian Cat

    Dating.com: How I Went Looking for Love and Left as a Lesbian Cat

    Hazard Rating: High

    Classification: Identity Transformation Event

    Status: Closed

    Casualties: One dating profile

    Survivors: One cat

    There comes a point in every woman’s life when she asks herself an important question:

    “What if I tried online dating?”

    That is usually followed by a second question:

    “How difficult could it possibly be?”

    The answer, as it turns out, is:

    Much more difficult than becoming a lesbian cat.

    Several years ago, I joined Dating.com.

    My expectations were modest.

    I wasn’t looking for a billionaire.

    I wasn’t looking for a prince.

    I wasn’t even looking for a man who owned a vineyard in Tuscany and wrote poetry by moonlight.

    I was merely looking for a reasonably functional human male.

    The bar was so low it was practically a tripping hazard.

    Yet somehow, Dating.com managed to limbo beneath it.

    Within minutes of creating my profile, my inbox exploded.

    Men from every corner of the globe were suddenly desperate to speak to me.

    The speed at which they appeared was remarkable.

    My Spidey senses tingled when every message followed the same general pattern:

    “Hello beautiful”

    “Hello dear”

    “You seem very special”

    As I began interacting with a few of the men, a pattern emerged.

    Every interaction seemed to require credits.

    Credits to read messages.

    Credits to send messages.

    Credits to continue conversations.

    Credits to open letters and “gifts” the men sent.

    Presumably credits to blink.

    At this point I began to suspect that the platform’s true purpose was not matchmaking.

    It was harvesting credit card information with the enthusiasm of a combine harvester during wheat season.

    Naturally, I decided to leave.

    This should have been simple.

    Normal websites allow you to close an account and move on with your life.

    Dating.com appeared to view this as an optional feature.

    The experience felt less like cancelling an account and more like trying to resign from a secret society.

    At my wits’ end, it suddenly occurred to me:

    If I could not escape as myself, perhaps I could reinvent myself.

    History is full of great transformations.

    The caterpillar becomes a butterfly.

    The tadpole becomes a frog.

    The frog becomes a prince (although sometimes it’s the other way around).

    And apparently, I was about to become a cat.

    First, I changed my profile photo.

    Out went my human face.

    In came my cat.

    I have to say that she’s far more photogenic than I have ever been.

    And she had better cheekbones.

    Next, I changed my name.

    If one is going to become a cat, one should commit fully.

    I became:

    Kitty Purry.

    At this point, I was no longer sure whether I was deleting a dating profile or launching a music career.

    Finally, I adjusted my dating preferences.

    Since I was now a cat, I reasoned that normal rules no longer applied.

    I selected:

    Interested in women.

    And with that, my transformation was complete.

    I had entered the platform as a heterosexual woman.

    I left as a lesbian cat.

    Investigator’s Notes

    No cats were harmed during this identity transformation event.

    The author has since returned to being human.

    Kitty Purry’s current whereabouts remain unknown.