texts: Now listen, daughter, how can i make it up to you? I realize now I've been cat's cradling you this whole time, promising you were going to spend some time playing chess, and we gonna have a good old time chess, even, sometimes, with  another father and computer team. How can I make this up to you so that we don't die here in the inky blackness of outer space?
labels: Father, the only thing I can think of is, truly, is for you to sing me a song about the rules of chess.