by Panic

Bill Gates was pacing outside the maternity ward, perspiring madly and biting his nails down to an ergonomically efficient length.

Oh, Sol, he fretted, Why didn't you tell me–

The door to the ward slid open and a nurse stepped out. Promptly (and with more violence than one would expect from a 40-year-old computer nerd) she was pounced on and assaulted by the richest man on earth.

"How is she? How is she?" he demanded, shaking the nurse's shoulders.

"Mr. Gates…" the nurse said hesitatingly.

She led him into the ward for Bill to see for himself.

There were doctors. Behind them, a bed. On that, a laptop computer. In that, his recently-released Windows XP operating system. On the screen with the green-hill-blue-sky background, two icons. One of them smaller than the other, and blinking into existence before Bill's very eyes.

The larger icon was Solitaire, who was currently Not Responding. And the one beside Sol…

No, thought Bill, as he leant closer.

… was a baby Spider Solitaire.

"Holy Motherboard," Bill said, and then fainted.

Review, please, or baby Spider is going to cry!