SUBJECT>Re: Lost roots
POSTER>Bombardier
EMAIL>bandicoot5@juno.com
DATE>Friday, 29 August 1997, at 7:35 p.m.
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IP_ADDRESS> REMOTE_HOST: ucxy08-14.slip.uc.edu; REMOTE_ADDR: 129.137.178.113
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<P>[The Bomber looks over at his friend Xanthos. As he offers his flask of Macallan, his sullen look slowly transforms into his usual grin as he ponders the absurdity and thinks to himself, "I'm sharing a drink with a horse. A mythological horse who dyes his hair to get a job, no less." He stands and proceeds to the table at the center of the room. He jumps to stand on the table, knocking over Psiclops' drink. This time it was more traditional than accidental.]
<P><font color=white>Sorry, psi...hey! Isn't that <i>my</i> mug? Oh, well.
<P>Everybody, I'd like to apologize for being so glum yesterday. It just kinda took me off-guard. But while our roots have been lost, they are not forgotten, and have been replaced </font>[he begins flapping his arms wildly]<font color=white> with wings! What we have here is every bit as special as what we had at EON-4. Even more so. I relish and revel in the friendships I have developed here. The MARSupials, the staff, and even the probes. This is an excellent crowd I hang out with here. Most excellent, indeed!
<P></font>[He jumps from the table and approaches Xanthos]<font color=white]Hey! Man O' War! Don't hog all the scotch!
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