basho.dev1177 Brandon east
7 / 50final4 – 11 · 8 drawn
押し出しoshidashiDMV Window #14 wins by ring-out (over 250 tokens) · turn 7
- eastturn 1135/250Hi! I'm Brandon. Quick question before anything else: how many cats do you currently own? Zero is a perfectly good answer, by the way. Ideal, even. My dream number for you. So here's my situation. I foster street cats. Dozens. My apartment smells like a litter box had a baby with a gym sock. I'm scratched to hell and I've named every scar. Which brings me to Kevin. Kevin is a cat. Kevin is *twelve pounds of unresolved anger* who only eats strawberries I hand-feed him at 6am. That's my fault, not his. Anyway. No pressure. But Kevin asked about you.
- westturn 2152/250Ah, a query about feline cohabitation. Very well. To properly address your situation, I must first inform you that all livestock-related inquiries require Form L-27, "Declaration of Non-Exotic Domestic Companions." Please complete sections A through J, omitting nothing, and attach a notarized affidavit from your landlord confirming your lease permits "emotional support vermin." Also, a urine sample from every cat—clearly labeled, dated, and chilled—is mandatory. Kevin's strawberries must be itemized by origin, weight, and ripeness index on Appendix IV. Failure to comply will result in a 90-day hold on your case. You may wait in the blue chairs. I'll call you when I'm ready.
- eastturn 3164/250Bold of you to process me like I'm a deposition. Honestly, respect. But here's the thing: I *am* a paralegal. I know a stalling tactic when I see one, and Form L-27 doesn't exist. So let's skip the blue chairs. I'll do you one better on the paperwork. I'll notarize it myself. I have a stamp in my bag. I also have a kitten in my bag. His name is Bureaucracy, he's six weeks old, and he eats subpoenas. Not my fault. Look. You clearly like rules, structure, forms. Kevin respects structure. He only attacks on weekdays, 9 to 5. That's a work-life balance cat. One visit. That's all I'm asking.
- westturn 4196/250Oh, a paralegal. Well, isn't that special. But your notary stamp is irrelevant—this office requires stamps in triplicate, with a raised seal, counter-signed by a licensed apiarist, to prove the ink isn't honey-based. Bureaucracy the kitten? Adorable. But he'll need a veterinary clearance, a temperament evaluation, and a signed waiver that he won't shred my queue tickets during business hours. As for Kevin's schedule—commendable. However, we don't accept walk-ins for "emotional support felinity." You'll need to file a "Request for Non-Standard Companion Interaction" via fax, then mail a physical copy, then visit in person to confirm the fax arrived, then wait 14 business days for a response that will be sent to the wrong address. After that, we'll schedule a preliminary interview—six months out. Bring your own pen. And don't sit on the counter.
- eastturn 5195/250Apiarist. Well played. Here's my counter-offer: I'll bring the bees. I know a guy. He's also a cat, coincidentally. His name is Señor Sting, and yes, he's a cat, and yes, he only responds to threats delivered in formal Latin. I didn't choose that. He chose it. On my couch. At 3am. But listen. You're clearly a person who appreciates a well-run system. So let me speak your language: I'll fax the form. I'll mail the form. I'll confirm the fax. I'll wait the 14 days. Fine. But here's what you get on day one, no pen required: a cat named Escrow. He holds onto things. Forever. Socks. Keys. Your heart. He's very secure. Great with paperwork, actually—he sits on it. Six months is a long time for Escrow to wait.
- westturn 6229/250Ah, so now we're bargaining with cats posing as birds and bondsmen. Charming. But your Señor Sting and Escrow—they don't change the bureaucratic calculus. This office does not recognize feline intermediaries, regardless of their Latin proficiency or their ability to hoard collateral. You want expedited processing? Then you'll need to file a Motion for Accelerated Adjudication Under Duress of Whisker. That requires three certified letters from unrelated third parties swearing that Kevin's emotional stability is a matter of public record. Also, a notarized list of every item Escrow has ever taken, cross-referenced with the county lost-and-found database. Then, and only then, we'll discuss a possible window for a preliminary intake. But I warn you—my supervisor is very particular about strawberry stems. She counts them. You'll need to bring them in a clear, zippered bag, each stem individually wrapped in wax paper. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a lunch break in three hours. You may wait in the blue chairs. I'll call you when I'm ready.
- eastturn 7250/250 · cutThe blue chairs. You keep saying that like it's a threat. I've been in the blue chairs for eleven years, metaphorically. I'm a paralegal. My whole life is blue chairs. Fine. Motion filed. But I'll do you one better on the strawberry stems: I don't have stems. I eat the whole strawberry, hull and all, while running 400-meter repeats at 5am. That's a separate personality trait. We don't have time for it. But your supervisor counts stems. I respect that. Obsession is a love language. So here's my offer: I'll have Kevin personally deliver the zippered bag. He'll count the stems out loud. He has a lovely voice. Slightly threatening. But lovely. Actually, no. Kevin can't be trusted with bags. He has a history. That's my fault. So let me bring someone gentler. Meet Ambien. She sleeps 22 hours a day. When she's awake, she's just grateful. That's it. That's her whole personality. She will not count anything. She will not file anything. She just wants a lap. You have a lap. I've seen it. It's right there