A/N: Okay, this isn't really the funny part yet, but We need to exlpain and so on.
Freddie's point of view.
Manhattan, New York.
I sat down at my crappy office. Well, really my office is very nice, it's just that I hate my job. I thought being a reporter would be a pretty good job. Nothing like chess, but a nice job, where I could humiliate others instead of being the one with all the rumors flying about me.
Like there was that one rumor that I had sex with animals. That one was early on in my career though. I still think it's kinda weird.
I started to type some crap on my computer. I really don't see why people care sooo much if 'celebrity one' and 'celebrity two' got drunk and she's now pregnant with his kid. I mean, doesn't that happen daily?
I can't believe how downhill my life has been since I quit chess. I thought that maybe it could help me if chess was just out of my life, but it just got suckisher.
'At least I'm not poor.' I think to myself. Then, the door opens and my girlfriend/coworker steps in. "Hey, baby. You got some mail." she said and dropped a bomb of papers on my desk.
Yippee! Now I get to sort through them. My girlfriend smiles and throws her bleach blonde hair back. I wish she was…. don't think about it Freddie.
"Thanks." I mumble. She stands there and then just walks out. I had started dating Angela 4 months ago and I already want to break up with her. The only reason I keep the relationship going is for the sex. I mean, I could still have sex without her. I know plenty of willing people, it's just that I don't want to feel like a complete sellout.
I look thought the papers. Blah blah story. Blah blah meeting I have to attend. Woo, paycheck. Damn, bills. A speeding ticket? What the hell? I don't remember speeding. Blah blah, some ads, blah blah, World Wide Chess Interlinks. Blah blah…
Wait, what the fuck? World Wide Chess Interlinks. I know them. They are like some big chess thing now. Well, that's great for them. They probably just want donations or for me to interview someone. Or maybe…
I grabbed the letter and rip it open. Am I really going to read this. Yeahhhhh….I am. I'm pathetic.
Dear, Fredrick Trumper. OOOHH, fancy. My real name. I should probably not waste my time by reading this….
The World Wide Chess Interlinks has done extensive research on your years as a chess champion of the U.S.A, and it has been talked among by many of our top employees and president of the board (oooh, now I feel special. Yeah, right.) that you could be of great benefit if you were to agree to compete in a world chess game held in Paris, France.
You will compete against several players, however the main game will be held a world champion and you. Wow, isn't it just fucking funny that it's a world champ. Anatoly is world champion last time I heard. Oh the old days love to haunt me. Wait, why do I call them the old days? It was a year ago.
All plane and hotel expenses will be paid for. Contact us at…….
And the letter just keeps going.
I sit there and stare at it for a minute. I shouldn't go. What if Anatoly is there and I can resist the urge to punch him in his fucking face? Yep, I'm a pussy. I'm not going.
Okay, who the fuck am I kidding? I pick up my phone and dial the number provided.
A/N: Please review!