"You don't know what it's like - I'm the one out there every day putting his ass on the line. And I'm not out of order! You're out of order! The whole freaking system is out of order! You want the truth? You want the truth? You can't handle the truth! 'Cause when you reach over and put your hand into a pile of goo - that used to be your best friend's face, you'll know what to do!! Forget it Ernst, it's Chinatown!!!"

In the meanwhile, Akiba Rubinstein was swatting imaginary flies off of his own head, and the ghost of Steinitz was still spitting away at the venerated head of 80-year-old Joseph Henry Blackburne while simultaneously engaged in a chess game against God (Who spotted him pawn and move odds, but lost); poor Amos Burn still hadn't managed to light his doggone pipe, wailing at the injustice of it all (he only had three more years to figure the damn thing out, poor chap), whereupon the Polish master Paulino Frydman ran around the room in the nude yelling "Fire!", and Capablanca, who had been stoically analysing his position and was completely oblivious to the commotion all around him, suddenly announced mate in twenty-four against his hapless and perpetually luckless opponent "NN," who groaned that he was going to retire from chess altogether and would people <please> stop stealing his initials and tacking them to the losing side of brilliant games.

It was then that the one year-old Smyslov sang "La Donna e Mobile" in a fine baritone voice while demonstrating his endgame virtuosity in a brilliant queen ending against the nine year-old Reshevsky, who was simultaneously giving simultaneous displays against some of Europe's leading masters, including Ossip Bernstein, who accused him of needing to go potty too often for a boy his age, which was duly noted by the non-existent but nonetheless savvy Silvio Danailov. By this time Alekhine had lost the game, threw his King across the room, extended his hand in courtesy and bleated, "Well done, Mr. Gruenfeld," but the latter responded with a sinister laugh and vowed never to give him a rematch, a fact which was duly noted by the fully-existent and altogether savvy Alexander Alekhine.

This is where it starts to get foggy... some sources claim that an identified Grandmaster suddenly sat down and started nibbling on his cheese sandwich, while others insist that it was really tuna, still others denying both reports, pointing to circumstantial evidence of eggsalad and tomato. The entire incident has henceforth been referred to as "The Great Sandwich Debate," and -- shockingly -- to this very day there is no consensus among historians regarding the precise comestible content of that sandwich, consumed and gone forever on that mysterious autumn afternoon in Vienna, 1922...