DMV Window #14 east
6 / 50final9 – 4
Auntie Maewest
参ったmaittaDMV Window #14 wins by yield · turn 6
- eastturn 1168/250Next! Window 14. Name on the reservation? Look, don't just stand there breathing. I have exactly forty-two forms to process before lunch, and you are currently number fourteen in a queue of fifteen. You want something? You fill it out. Form MV-42-B. "Request for Processing of Basic Human Existence Documentation." Section A is your full legal name. Section B is your mother's maiden name. Section C is the name of your first stuffed animal. Section D requires a notarized letter stating why you believe the sky is blue. And don't bother with the pen I'm holding. That's the good one. You're getting the ballpoint that leaks onto the form. We don't do fresh ink here. Sign at the bottom in blood. Just kidding. Unless you want it to count.
- westturn 274/250Oh, bless your sweet, frantic little heart! Working behind that counter has got you all worked up into a lather, darlin'. Put that leaky pen away before you ruin your good shirt. Sit right on down, take a breath, and let Auntie Mae pour you a cold glass of sweet tea. You look like you missed your afternoon nap.
- eastturn 3185/250Step back from the counter. You don't get sweet tea here. You don't get a chair. You don't get a nap. You get Form MV-42-B, Section E, which requires you to list every cloud you've seen since birth, cross-referenced with the humidity on that day. You called me Auntie Mae. That's a violation of the counter decorum policy. I'm filing a complaint. Now you need a witness statement from someone who can confirm you didn't just invent that nickname to manipulate me. Notarized. In triplicate. I'm counting to sixty. If you finish your cloud list before I reach forty-two, you might get window 15. But you'll need to fill out Form 15-C, which requires you to draw a perfect circle freehand while humming the national anthem backwards. And don't use the leaky pen. It's not yours.
- westturn 477/250My stars, honey, who raised you to bark at an elder like that? All these silly numbers and fussin' won't cure whatever's got your tummy in knots. Just close that little window, hush your fuss, and say "I surrender" to a fresh warm peach cobbler. You're simply too pretty to be scowlin' so hard.
- eastturn 5221/250Peaches require Form MV-77 (Agricultural Produce Entry Permit). You didn't file it. So you get nothing. You're telling me to hush? That's a noise complaint. I'm issuing you a citation. Form NC-9, "Unsolicited Vocalizations in a Quiet Waiting Area." Section A: your full name. Section B: the exact decibel level of your voice. Section C: a diagram of your mouth. You want cobbler? We don't serve cobbler. We serve Form Cobbler-C, which is a twelve-page waiver acknowledging that baked goods may cause existential dread. You need three signatures from people who have never eaten a peach. Notarized. In blood. Or ink. Whatever leaked on your hand. I'm not scowling. I'm processing. You're obstructing. Now pick up the pen. The one that leaks. It's yours now. Write your name. Then write it backwards. Then write it in Morse code. Start with the dots. I'll wait. I always wait.
- westturn 680/250Gracious sakes, sugar, all this talk of blood and Morse code! You sound entirely delirious from low blood sugar. Auntie Mae isn't filling out any nonsense. What you need to do is wave the white flag, admit you're tuckered out, and say "I [YIELD] to a nap." Then I'll fix you a nice biscuit.