In a nearby park, certain tables were installed years ago with imprinted checkerboard patterns to attract players of games such as chess, Reversi or checkers (draughts for the Britons). The first time Old Gefrido hobbled past this then-occupied table on her cane, she only saw a new territory she could dominate. Once a checkers champion with several accolades in her obscure home country, she had moved a bus ride away from this park as her retirement plan, and her face was sufficiently sagged and wrinkled to be unrecognisable to even the rare one who came from the same place as she did.
The victor of a checkers game was taunting and gloating over the opponent to the verge of tears. Old Gefrido saw this and trudged over to the table, mad at the repulsively ill manners of this generation of this place. " 'Ey bloke! Seems yaw been winnin' every game yaw played, ye? Yaw beh no match fuh me!"
"Hahaha, bring it on, fool!"
What a haughty egotist he is! Even then, she only saw his pieces being picked off the board one by one, as his face grew more and more nervous. She did not relent, to teach him a lesson on sportsmanship, culminating in a chained capture of the last five of his pieces with a king/queen.
Irate at his humiliating defeat, he sweeps the pieces off and storms off from his habitual table. This is impossible! He has won every opponent he has faced! "…Some people never learn," Gefrido muttered to herself. "Anyone else?"
Still in his blind fit of fury, his foot stubbed against something of the coarse texture of a stone. Opening his eyes, he saw a well in the middle of nowhere. He realised how lucky he was to simply have his toe be scratched instead of becoming the real-life Timmy in a well.
His hand swept over his pocket, feeling his lucky checker still inside intact. He never took it out except against the toughest of opponents, realising how much he underestimated Old Gefrido. Hell-bent with rage, his mind filled with the absurd superstition that the well could grant his wish as revenge on her. And he didn't even need to spend a single cent — he could cheat it with his pocketed checker and the well would still grant his wish, and he has another lucky checker at home. Little did he know, the well did twist wishes based on the monetary value of the coin tossed in, and it was strongly displeased with the sham offering. He lifted the checkers from his pocket, tossed it into the well, closed his eyes in focus, and lowly uttered his wish.