EPTI have heard many terrible things on the internet. I've been instructed to quit games forever, uninstall games, and kill myself. I was once accosted by someone who, after losing to me in a game of Starcraft, posited that he hoped that the Son of God himself would forcibly enter my eye socket with his penis, and proceed to do unspeakable things. The creature I was about to meet was worse than every single one of them combined. As he moved his queen directly onto the field of battle as his second move of the game, the cheese-eating surrender monkey spoke but three words.
"NZ > Australia
"Oh HELL no.
Quickly, I shielded the eyes of my pet koala Barry. His eyes were not meant to see such things.
![[image loading]](http://ww2.sinaimg.cn/bmiddle/5922cb91jw1e0t1pr2v7kj.jpg)
He said WHAT?
I vowed then and there that the foreign invader would stop HERE. The Frenchmen were known for their surrender, and I wasn't about to break that tradition. I would destroy him. And not only that, I would destroy him while playing by the rules of Australian Chess. Shifting my buttocks on my sitting esky, I reached for my drinking esky and pulled out the case of Fosters that all Australians over the age of seven have within reach at all times. For foreign dignitaries who may someday read this tale, the rules of Australian Chess are as follows, copied from the Australian Consitution.
1: It's like regular Chess.
2: Except every time you move, you take a coupla gulps of Fosters.
3: And start sculling the bugger if the other bloke's being a dickhead and taking too long to make his fuckin' move like a fuckin' shithead.
It began. With a flurry of pawn moves, each more retarded than the next, my opponent steadfastly began the style of Chess modeled after standard French military tactics: Hiding everyone important in the back while they wet themselves. Surprisingly, it worked, as I began to be driven back, my opponent taking a great deal of space on the board. Finally, fifteen moves in, distracted by my opponent's boundless capacity to consume the carcasses of frogs, bones and all, I missed a crucial move, and one of my pawns was taken. As is the forfeit in Australian Chess for being a complete monger, I proceeded to smash the next bottle over my own skull. FUCK that was painful! This was entirely that fucking French bastard's fault...and now I was mad.
![[image loading]](http://media.heavy.com/media/2012/08/angry-kola.jpg)
BLOOD AND EUCALYPTUS FOR MAKHLEB!
I then proceeded to trade off the queens, and then engage in a "Who's a Bigger Fucking Dumbshit" contest with my opponent, as both of us competed mightily to fail to notice the supremely obvious move that would win my pawn back for free. In my drunken state, I forgot about the subgame being played and took the pawn by mistake. My opponent, determined to not only win the contest, but dominate it, then proceeded to move his only defensive piece away from a second pawn, which I took. At this stage, I proceeded to execute a bewilderingly complicated tactic that- ah, who am I kidding. I got my bishop trapped, and escaped through sheer luck, noticing a move that had completely eluded me when I plunged ass-first into enemy territory.
![[image loading]](http://7art-screensavers.com/screenshots/animals/koala.jpg)
Yeah, that's right. What the fuck are you gonna do about it?
That said, when the dust settled, I was up two pawns and on to the second half of the case. Fortunately, at this point, my opponent decided trading half the pieces on the board was a good idea, despite being two pawns behind. He then followed up this brilliant plan by trapping his own rook and losing the exchange as a direct result. Three pawns ahead, which was good, because I was beginning to wonder why we had moved the location of the game to a rapidly spinning merry-go-round or whatever the fuck we call it here in Australia.
Picking up pieces and moving them randomly on the board between bursts of projectile vomiting and drunken slurs, the endgame was not my finest of plays. That said, I was three pawns ahead, so despite trading my rook for a queened pawn that would have been trivial to stop earlier, I still managed to outrace my opponent's bishop and queen myself. With nothing but a king and bishop himself, he engaged in a round of traditional French Chess, and surrendered.
And thus, the battle ended. Surrounded by the debris of battle (comprised mostly of glass shards and various bodily fluids) I stood up, and performed the traditional Australian victory dance, known as the Stagger And Pass Out. Upon waking, I typed this out, so future generations may know. The French are out there. Waiting. Watching. They will try again. And when they do...Barry and I will be ready for them.
![[image loading]](http://koalainfo.com/koala-fertility/koala-fertility-disturbance.jpg)
Barry shall slay them by the thousands, and bathe in their blood.
.
I thought this was of pretty middling quality: I'm glad to be proven wrong!
