[Gryphin]

:: Pulls out a bottle of instant cure, Rubs it where the sun don't usualy don't shine, wishes it was not such a sunny day, wonder how Barry feels abo8t getting mooned, sews up the hole in the crotch of my jeans, made by the magical, rusty yet pointy spear, walks back into the now silent cantina, rats, they called my bulff, Note to sellf, don't play poker with primitive ::
Hi mac, how ya been. :: eyes macs chillie, smiles politely ::