Sore Loser

For Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge #187, based on the image above from shutterstock (hope you licensed this, buddy!). 110, I think it said. Under a minute.


“You fucking shitearse machine.” The air turned blue as the grandmaster sprang to his feet, sending his chair flying backwards into the soundproofed wall. Not done yet, he swept his fist over the board, upsetting every piece. “You fucking bastard”, he kicked out at the machine for good measure.

He knew immediately that he needed to calm down. He knew that his behaviour was unbecoming of a global personality. It’s just that… Gregor never lost!

His next reaction was base – a cigarette and a strong, black coffee, and he stormed backstage, to the vending machine, grimacing, “at least there are still some things fucking computers can’t do” as he plopped his quarter into the slot.

Prompt image for the Fandango's Flash Fiction prompt

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