The big old fellow walks over to the MessHall bulletin board and tacks a full sheet message. There is only a little verbage at the top with plenty of room to add comments below. The message reads as follows.
"Are we content with our little group here or do we want to grow and invite the rest of the world in? I was surfing around the other day and it seems like it would be a simple thing (and free, I think) to get listed in YAHOO. As it is, the only ones who know about Marsdawn are former EarthCommies and NoJava folx and whomever we invite."
"Whadya' think, y'all? Status quo or status "grow"???"
The old guy walks over to the sink, turns on the hot water and rinses his old gray, nondescript ceramic mug. He then reaches into the breast pocket of his lab coat and takes out a fresh bag of Plantation Mint tea. He brews the aromatic mix and tosses the bag in the trash. He plops himself down on the sofa, not noticing and almost sitting on the unconscious wood sprite.
Oops...sorry, Kanga.
He puts the paper down beside him and takes out the sports page. He looks at the front page and moans.
"Nine to nuthin'...man, I hope they get it back together before tonight."
He pats his pocket to make sure he still has the tickets.
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Zero
0=o