Everything seemed to be going well until Parson hit an unpleasant snag. Four dreaded kings turned up simultaneously after dealing the third row from the stock. And there was no chance to turn over another face-down card without the help of boop.
Parson laboriously noted the identity of all face-down cards he managed to uncover so far. He decided it was best to start afresh and determine how best to prepare for the four kings in round 3.
“Boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop”, says Parson.
All cards magically return to their starting position.
At long last Parson is able to enter a critical endgame with only 20 face down cards. Despite having one suit removed and an empty column, Parson knows he’s in trouble. One more bad card would imply a certain loss without the help of “boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop boop”. Parson glances at his watch (displaying his stats) and suddenly realises he doesn’t have a lot of Move left. Maybe the liberal use of boop isn’t what it’s cracked up to be.
He sighs with relief after turning over a much needed Ten of Spades in Column 1. With luck on his side, Parson has no trouble untangling the remaining cards and winning the game (albeit with only 3 Move remaining). The Dwagon Spidew collapses to the floor, as though mortally wounded. Parson does the same, but more through relief and sheer exhaustion instead of being mortally wounded.
“You have done well,” says the Monkey.
“Thank you,” replies Parson.
“Unfortunately, you are not a Doctow of Spidew Solitaiwe.”
“But, but … I worked my boop off for three booping hours. I earned my victory! True, I used boop too much and was lucky to not run out of Move but …”
“Boop is not the problem,” replies the Monkey. “The problem was your hand was Too Easy.”
“You. Are. Boo. Ping. Kidding. Me,” grunts Parson. He could explode any minute now (if you excuse the terrible cliche).
“As soon as you exposed all the cards, I did some complex calculations in my head and determined an expert should win two games in fifty. To become a Doctow of Spidew Solitaiwe you need to win a hand with an estimated win rate of zero games in fifty”.
“So … does that mean I was doomed as soon as I dealt the starting hand?”
“Yes and no,” replies the Monkey. “You are not a Doctow of Spidew Solitaiwe but at least you are still alive, unlike the many skulls and skeletons that are barely a distance of 1.5 metres away from you.”
Finally Parson could take it no more.
“70,70,70,70,70,70,70,85,85,85,85,85,85,85,85,67,67,67,67,67,67,67,75,75,75,75,75,75,75,75!” shouts Parson. He remembers the Monkey’s warning about swearing three nano-seconds too late.
The Dwagon Spidew suddenly springs to life and lunges towards Parson. The Spidew thrusts his fangs into Parson’s face. What happens next is not pretty.
Edifying Thoughts of a Spider Solitaire Addict 