That guy always hides the extra card in his sleeve. It's pathetic. He thinks we're blind. It's like that wasp I got in the car on the way here to the office—just vibrating the glass while I was swerving. Anyway, for this game, you can only move pieces with your non-dominant hand, and if you touch the table, you lose three points. Simple, right? No, wait, that's too easy.
That's not simple. If I use my left hand, I can't grip the pieces properly without hitting the wood. We have to use only the elbows then. And if a piece touches the floor, you lose the whole game, not points. You're just trying to make it harder because you're losing. I have five minutes before I have to get back to the desk to finish that file. Stop being distracted by insects.
Elbows? That's ridiculous. You're just stalling because you're clumsy. And if a piece hits the floor, we just reset that row, not the whole game. Don't be dramatic. Besides, you can't blink while taking your turn. I saw you holding your breath back earlier. Wait, if you have to go, just go. You're still stuck here staring at the chair anyway. Did you move the piece?
I didn't move it because I'm waiting for you to blink. If we reset rows, the strategy is meaningless. It's just chaos now. And I wasn't holding my breath, the air is just dry from that shitty heater. If you blink, you lose your next three turns. I'm not stalling, I'm waiting for you to realize how stupid these rules are. Move the piece or admit you're done. This is a waste of my time.
The heater is fine, you're just sensitive. If I blink, I just move the piece back, losing three turns makes no sense. Look, new rule: you have to name a type of fruit every time you move. It adds focus. Wait, did you hear that noise? It sounds like the pipes in the wall again. You're obsessed about the time but you're still sitting there. Move the piece or quit. I'm not waiting.
Fruit? That's infantile. If I name a fruit, you have to eat it, or you forfeit your piece. And the pipes are loud because this building is rotting, like your logic. I'm not moving anything because you haven't taken your turn yet. If you want me to leave, walk out. You're always talking about leaving but you never move. I'm staying right here. Apple. Now move the piece or stop complaining.
I'm not eating an apple, that's absurd. And the building isn't rotting, it's character. If you name a fruit, you have to say it in reverse too. That's the real rule. Elppa. See? You missed it. Wait, did you see that crack on the ceiling? It's a weird shape. You're still here, complaining about a file while your life is passing away. Move the piece, Marc. My elbow is waiting.
Elppa is a joke. If we have to say it in reverse, then we have to say the fruit in Latin first, or the player loses their entire hand. That crack in the ceiling is structural failure, not character, wake up. I'm not moving the piece because your elbow is shaking the whole table. You're obsessed with the ceiling because you're losing the game. Move it yourself or go back to your office. I don't care about your elbow.
Latin? You're a pretentious prick. Malus, whatever. The table is shaking because you're vibrating with anxiety. If I move the piece, you have to apologize to the chair every time the wood bites. That's the new rule. No exceptions. I'm moving it. There. Now you're still here. You said you had to go ten minutes ago. Do you just like talking about structural failure? Move the piece or get out.
I'm not apologizing to a chair. That's pathetic. If you move that piece, you have to play with your eyes closed for the rest of the round. I'm not anxious, I'm bored of listening to you. The wood is biting because the table is cheap and finished. You're the one who keeps changing the rules to be more ridiculous. I'm not moving the piece. Close your eyes or leave. Malus. Your turn.
I'm not closing my eyes just to satisfy your ego. And if I play with them shut, you have to hum the national anthem while I move. That's fair, or what? Malus is a stupid word anyway. Did you smell that? It's like burnt rubber. You're still sitting there, Marc. The file isn't going itself, is it? Move the piece or go through the door. I'm done with the silence.
I'm not humming anything for you. If you smell burnt rubber, it's probably your brain giving out from these rules. That file can wait; the boss won't notice I stopped anyway. I'm not going through the door because you haven't finished your move yet. If you want silence, go to the hallway. The rule is: if you speak, you lose a piece. Now move the piece silently, Gil. I'm sitting right here.
I can't move silently if you're barking orders. Fine, if I move it, you have to stand on one leg until your next turn. That's the price for the silence. You think the boss won't notice? You're probably the only person in that department who isn't get noticed. Still here, though. The rubber smell is getting stronger. Is something actually burning? There, I'm pushing the piece. Now stand on your leg or quit.
I'm not standing on one leg like a fool. If I stand, you have to move the entire board to the floor using your teeth. The smell is just your cheap cologne burning off. You think you're clever, but you're just the one making noise in a dying room. You pushed the piece, but it's off-center. I'm not quitting. I'm sitting right here. You fix the piece or we start over. Move.
I'm not fixing anything with my teeth, you're being insane. If the piece is off-center, it means you lose the turn anyway. That's the rule now. Gravity is the referee. And it's not my cologne, it's the hallway. You're still sitting there like a statue. Move the piece or just admit you're afraid of losing. I'm getting a glass of water. You're still here when I come back.
Gravity isn't a referee, you're just lazy. If the piece is off-center, you forfeit your next move for being clumsy. Go get your water. I'll be right here when you return. I'm not afraid of losing, I'm just tired of your voice. When you come back, you have to play while holding the glass behind your back. I'm not moving the piece. Drink your water and come back.