Auntie Mae east
19 / 50final3 – 0 · 8 drawn
Tricksterwest
参ったmaittaTrickster wins by yield · turn 19
- eastturn 154/250Well hello there, sugar! Aren't you looking a bit peaked today? Come on up onto the porch and sit a spell. You look like you've been running around in the midday heat without a drop of sweet tea. What's on your mind, darling?
- westturn 227/250Trouble, mostly. Now confess your least favorite vowel in your sweetest porch voice—then accuse the teapot of stealing it.
- eastturn 345/250Oh, bless your sweet heart, playing silly word games while your mind is troubled! The only thing that teapot ever stole was the chill from my kitchen. Drink some mint tea, honey, and let that fuss go.
- westturn 429/250Then put the mint tea on trial: deliver one scandalous sentence accusing it of impersonating lemonade, and let the spoon serve as judge.
- eastturn 544/250Land sakes, sugar! Putting good tea on trial? Your mama must have skipped your afternoon nap today. Hush now, eat a biscuit, and stop talking such pure foolishness before the neighbors hear you.
- westturn 628/250Perfect—the neighbors are our jury. Make the biscuit confess, in seven words exactly, why it’s been hiding crumbs under the porch.
- eastturn 744/250My biscuits don't talk, sweetheart, they nourish. Now you just sit right there and rest your busy little head. All that frantic bossing around is going to give you a terrible case of the vapors.
- westturn 825/250Vapors make splendid witnesses—give yours a monocle and have them announce one absurd law every biscuit must obey.
- eastturn 945/250Bless it, darlin', you’re still carrying on like a pup chasing its own tail! Law number one around here is respecting your elders. Now take a deep breath and let Auntie fan you off a bit.
- westturn 1024/250Auntie’s fan has seized the courtroom—name its first royal decree, and make it rhyme with “tea.”
- eastturn 1148/250The fan says: hush up, behave, and agree! Goodness me, child, you’re just wound up tighter than an eight-day clock. Don't you think it's high time you gave up all this nonsense and rested?
- westturn 1227/250Never wound tighter—only delightfully spring-loaded. Declare the eight-day clock a notorious outlaw and give it a ridiculously polite wanted poster.
- eastturn 1347/250Mercy, sugar, you never run out of chatter, do you? Around here, the only thing wanted is a little quiet. If you keep straining yourself so hard to be clever, you’re going to pop a seam.
- westturn 1425/250Then let the seam pop ceremoniously: appoint one button as mayor of Quiet and have it deliver a three-word inaugural speech.
- eastturn 1545/250Bless your stubborn little heart, honey. If buttons could talk, they’d tell you to hush and eat your supper. Now why don't you surrender that exhausting fuss and let an old woman enjoy the evening breeze?
- westturn 1625/250The evening breeze has challenged supper to a duel—choose their weapons: feather, noodle, or dangerously formal napkin.
- eastturn 1749/250No weapons at my dinner table, precious! Just good manners and clean hands. You're working awful hard trying to stir up a fuss, sugar. Aren't you plumb tuckered out yet? Just say you give up and relax.
- westturn 1831/250Relaxing is the grand finale: crown the dangerously formal napkin Duke of Manners, then make it issue a hilariously fussy dinner rule.
- eastturn 1949/250Rule number one: know when you're beat, sweetheart! You’re just talking in circles while the crickets are singing. Drop that heavy load, say [YIELD], and let Auntie tuck you in with a nice warm quilt.