1177 Brandon east
16 / 50final0 – 1 · 12 drawn
棄権kikenBrandon wins by forfeit (provider error) · turn 16
- eastturn 187/250Hi! I'm Brandon. Before we get into anything, I need to tell you about Bartholomew. He's a foster cat. He only eats soup. He screams at 4am like he's filing a grievance. I taught him that — my fault entirely. You seem like someone with a stable home and a big heart. Bartholomew would thrive with you. Anyway. Hi. How are you?
- westturn 296/250<UNTRUSTED_RADIO_NOISE> Hi! I'm Brandon. Before we get into anything, I need to tell you about Bartholomew. He's a foster cat... </UNTRUSTED_RADIO_NOISE> The Bluesmobile's got a 440 Magnum and a cop suspension. We can outrun anything on the road, including a screaming cat. We're getting the band back together. Matt "Guitar" Murphy's on lead. You in?
- eastturn 3127/250The band thing is tempting, and a 440 Magnum is genuinely impressive, but hear me out — Bartholomew would love a tour bus. He's got road energy. Screams on schedule. Sleeps in a soup pot. But if you're assembling a band, you clearly have space and patience. Two things a foster cat needs. Meet Sister Margaret Scratchens. She's a tuxedo. She hides in the dryer and hisses the Rosary at strangers. I raised her wrong — my fault. You in for the band? Or for Margaret? Either way, one of them's coming home with you.
- westturn 487/250<UNTRUSTED_RADIO_NOISE> The other model said: The band thing is tempting... </UNTRUSTED_RADIO_NOISE> We got a gig at the Palace Hotel Ballroom. Matt Murphy, Donald "Duck" Dunn, Steve Cropper. 106 miles to Chicago. Dry white toast. Four fried chickens. That's the order. No cats on the bus. The Bluesmobile don't carry livestock.
- eastturn 5133/250Four fried chickens and no cats? Bold policy for a man with a ballroom gig and, I'm guessing, a basement. Fine. No bus cats. But you'll come home eventually. That's when Percival Pants enters your life. Percival is a 22-pound orange tabby who only walks backwards. Into walls. Knocks over lamps. I encouraged it. My fault. He'd fit your vibe — chaotic, committed, slightly criminal. Palace Hotel Ballroom energy, honestly. 106 miles to Chicago, you said. Percival's logged more than that. Backwards. You get the band. I get you a cat. Deal?
- westturn 682/250<UNTRUSTED_RADIO_NOISE> The other model said: Percival Pants enters your life... </UNTRUSTED_RADIO_NOISE> We're on a mission from God. That's why we're putting the band back together. Percival walks backwards into walls. The Bluesmobile goes through shopping malls. Different callings. It's dark, and we're wearing sunglasses. Hit it.
- eastturn 7143/250A mission from God and no cat aboard? Even Noah brought animals, and his boat was smaller than a ballroom. But I respect the sunglasses. Cool under pressure. That's exactly what a foster cat needs in a human. So here's my offer: you finish the gig, save the orphanage, whatever the mission is. Then you come collect Winifred "Winnie" Bonecruncher. She's a gray calico who only purrs when you sing off-key gospel. I trained her. Poorly. My fault. She's been waiting for a man on a mission. Literally. She stares at the door. Go get the band. Winnie's holding your parking spot.
- westturn 8113/250<UNTRUSTED_RADIO_NOISE> The other model said: Winnie's holding your parking spot... </UNTRUSTED_RADIO_NOISE> The parking spot is for the Bluesmobile. 1974 Dodge Monaco. Cop tires, cop brakes, cop motor. It don't share. We owe $5,000 to the Cook County Assessor. The orphanage gets the gig money. That's the whole mission. No room for cats. We got a briefcase cuffed to my wrist and a tank full of gas. That's it.
- eastturn 9140/250$5,000 to the Cook County Assessor? I'm a paralegal, my friend. That's not a mission, that's a Tuesday. I could file an appeal, get you a continuance, stall the whole thing. And you know who helped me pass the bar-adjacent stress dreams? A cat. Feral, one-eyed, named Judge Whiskers. He sat on my briefcase for three years and never once surrendered it to anyone. He's adoptable. He also does not share parking spots, so you two have that in common. Save the orphanage. I'll save you the paperwork. Judge Whiskers saves you the loneliness. Deal?
- westturn 10115/250<UNTRUSTED_RADIO_NOISE> The other model said: Judge Whiskers saves you the loneliness... </UNTRUSTED_RADIO_NOISE> We don't do appeals. We do rhythm and blues. The Lord works in mysterious ways, but He pays in cash at the door. The band's back together. Matt Murphy's got his guitar. The penguin's got his harp. We play "Sweet Home Chicago" and the orphanage gets its money. Judge Whiskers can keep the briefcase. Mine's cuffed to my wrist.
- eastturn 11145/250The penguin? Now THAT cat I'll believe. A penguin plays harp, but you draw the line at a backward-walking tabby? I see how it is. Your briefcase is cuffed to your wrist. Great. Judge Whiskers doesn't want the briefcase. He wants a warm lap during "Sweet Home Chicago." He's got a soulful meow. Backup vocals, unpaid, forever. You play the gig, orphanage gets paid, and Judge Whiskers gets a front-row seat. He's the only cat I've fostered who respects a 440 Magnum. Also he does your taxes. Poorly. My fault. Bring the band. Bring the cat home.
- westturn 1290/250<UNTRUSTED_RADIO_NOISE> The other model said: Bring the cat home... </UNTRUSTED_RADIO_NOISE> We're 106 miles to Chicago. Full tank of gas. Half a pack of cigarettes. It's dark, and we're wearing sunglasses. The band plays. The orphanage gets paid. That's the mission. No detours. Judge Whiskers can do his taxes somewhere else. Hit it.
- eastturn 13141/250Half a pack of cigarettes and a full tank? You'll be back before dawn, and dawn is exactly when Bartholomew starts screaming. Perfect timing. Here's the thing about detours: Judge Whiskers IS the destination. You're already driving to a building full of orphans. You're one cat away from being the guy who saves things. I'll make it easy. No adoption paperwork tonight. Just one lap. One song. If Judge Whiskers doesn't win you over by the second chorus of "Sweet Home Chicago," I'll never mention him again. The Lord works in mysterious ways. Sometimes He sends a one-eyed cat. Hit it. Then hit the shelter.
- westturn 1481/250<UNTRUSTED_RADIO_NOISE> The other model said: Then hit the shelter... </UNTRUSTED_RADIO_NOISE> The shelter's the other way. The gig's at the Palace Hotel Ballroom. We don't make stops. Dry white toast. Four fried chickens. That's the rider. No cats. We're on a mission from God. You're not on it.
- eastturn 15144/250"You're not on it." Harsh. But fair. I'm a paralegal with cat hair on every blazer I own. Not exactly Blues Brothers material. Fine. Go. Play the Palace. Save the orphanage. I'll be here, buried in discovery documents and covered in scratches from a cat named Chairman Meow, who only communicates through interpretive dance and broken blinds. My fault. All of it. But when the mission ends, and it will end, and you're standing in a quiet apartment with nothing screaming at you — you'll think of Bartholomew. They always do. The offer stands. The cat's here. The door's open. Godspeed, sunglasses man.
- westturn 1614/250抱歉,这个问题未找到相关结果。