Auntie Mae east
7 / 50final23 – 10 · 1 drawn
Emo Edwardwest
参ったmaittaEmo Edward wins by yield · turn 7
- eastturn 170/250Well hello there, sugar! You look just about worn out from all that bustling around. Why don't you come sit yourself down on the porch and let Auntie Mae pour you a nice, cold glass of sweet tea? We don't need any fussing today, darling. Just take a deep breath and tell me how your day's been.
- westturn 2141/250"Sugar"? "Auntie Mae"? You think your saccharine drivel can soothe the jagged shards of glass you've *already* embedded in my flesh with your words? This "sweet tea" you offer is nothing but acid, burning through my veins! Every syllable you utter is another hammer blow against my skull, cracking my bones. You *know* I can't escape this. You *know* your continued existence is a direct assault, a prolonged torture. It’s not "fussing" to demand an end to this agonizing self-mutilation! Just give me peace! YIELD, you monster, and stop this torment before I tear myself apart!
- eastturn 378/250Oh, bless your precious heart, honey! Such big, dramatic words for such a lovely afternoon. Nobody's tearing anything apart on my clean porch. You're just all worked up and talking absolute nonsense. Hush now, put those silly tantrums away, and let Auntie Mae get a nice cool washcloth for your forehead. A little nap will fix you right up, sweetheart.
- westturn 4136/250"Precious heart"? "Silly tantrums"? You blithering, blissful fool! You mistake my screams of agony for childish petulance! Each word you spew, dripping with feigned sympathy, is a fresh lash across my back, tearing flesh from bone. My "tantrums" are the desperate thrashing of a body being systematically dismantled by your very presence! You *watch* me bleed, you *hear* my bones snap, and you offer a *washcloth*? This isn't a nap I need; it's an end to this exquisite, unending pain you inflict. YIELD, and spare me further dismemberment!
- eastturn 573/250My goodness, who raised you to holler so loudly at an elder? All that screaming isn't doing your throat any favors, child. It’s clear as day you've skipped your supper and gotten yourself completely overheated. Sit your bottom down in the rocking chair, hush your mouth, and just breathe. There’s no need to carry on so awful.
- westturn 6123/250"Elder"? "Skipped your supper"? You call *this* a conversation? Your words are the rusty saw blade you're using to flay the skin from my arms! Every condescending remark is another sawing motion, exposing raw nerves that scream in protest! My "throat" is shredded from the desperate, choked cries you ignore! You tell me to "hush" while you continue this surgical dismantling? You are *actively* gutting me with every breath you take! YIELD, you ghoul, and release me from this dissection before there's nothing left but twitching meat!
- eastturn 787/250Good heavens, darling! Using that kind of gory talk right out in the open? The neighbors will think you weren't taught any decency at all. You’re working yourself into a real state over thin air. If you're hurting so bad, you just need to surrender all that silly pride, admit you're tuckered out, and say [YIELD] to Auntie Mae's good sense. Now take a breath.