SUBJECT>BAR-B-QUE...BAR-B-QUE...BAR-B-QUE...
POSTER>Grand Zero 
EMAIL>zero@your.service.com
DATE>April 25, 1997 at 04:35:27
EMAILNOTICES>no
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NEXT>1848 1850 1863 
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<P>The crowd, spurred on by the ever-increasing Texas delegation chants in unison...<p>BAR...B...QUE...HEY!<br>BAR...B...QUE...HEY!<br>BAR...B...QUE...HEY!<p>A line dance begins to form and and snake around through the chairs and tables in the MessHall.  Arms and legs are flailing about in rhythm with the chanting.  The excitment of the MARSupials in feeding frenzy drowns out even the jukebox.<p>BAR...B...QUE...HEY!<br>BAR...B...QUE...HEY!<br>BAR...B...QUE...HEY!<p>The Big Old Fellow is awakened with a snort.  He has been borrowing Grandma's rocker for a little while.  (Does this mean that Grandma is off her rocker?  If not, Zero owes her a big apology for sitting on her.)  He pulls the old blues harp out of his vest pocket and cuts loose with "Turkey in the straw"<p>Ed, shaking his head, follows the line around setting up the chairs they knock over.<p>Murphy, if thats not approval for your Bar-b-que idea, I don't know what is.<p>Can't wait for ribs and brisket...<p>---<p>Zero   <br>0=o

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