The moon said, “Checkmate.” The man stood there, dumbfounded. Minutes later he said, “You’re a checkmate.”

Long into the night, the man debated with the moon over the terms waxing and waning. All the while, growing louder and louder with each shot of cheap bourbon they imbibed. The man claimed that the moon was waxing, and the moon insisted that the man was waning.

It did not matter a lick that they were both correct, for there was still a lot of bourbon left. What the two lacked in intelligence, they more than made up for with their impeccable stamina.

At last, and at once, a disheveled squirrel, obviously annoyed, stormed down a tree. It was going to let the two have a piece of its mind, which was very small. The squirrel swished its tail, leaned forward, and placed its tiny paws on its hips.

“I’ve been listening to you idiots all night long, and it’s time to shut the fuck up. Let me tell you, you two are the epitome of what’s wrong with this world. You have no concept of consideration. You don’t know what shame is.”

With this, the man matter-of-factly punted the squirrel skyward, high in the air, towards the moon. Its frantic silhouette looked beautiful in the moonlight, in contrast to the horrid squishing thud when it landed.

MORAL: Don’t get in the middle of a fight, unless you’re ready to fight yourself.