"Hmm," pondered Friday, "you mean make like an owl."
"Say what?" chorused the gathered peeps.
"Wit to woo!" laughed Friday, "wit to woo!"
Raz, CMA and Liz groaned in unison.
"This isn't very Red Dwarf related, is it?" asked CMA.
The information souperhighway (sic) that was Raz's brain, played a quick game of word-association, Red Dwarf, Lister. Lister, vindaloo. Vindaloo, ah!
"Well," triumphed Raz, "we could try to curry favour!" Raz beamed. "But seriously," he continued, "Trial by Wit is okay by me."
*Oh, bugger,* thought Friday. He knew that he could be a little out of his depth here.
"Erm, are you sure you wouldn't prefer a good old-fashioned electoral campaign?" offered Friday. "You know the sort of thing, muck-spreading, Raz already has the tractor, electorate bribery, downright lying and all that. An honest-to-goodness demonstration of what a fine thing democratic process is. Hell, we could even campaign on the issues prevalent to today's newsgroup... blah... wibble..."
"Aww, Friday," interrupted CMA, "you've come over all serious on us. This is supposed to be light-hearted banter between friends, not a day-trip to Hustings 'R' Us."
"Yeah," agreed Liz.
"Possibly," sort-of agreed Raz, "but he may have a point. I mean, what *do* we want out of our Deputy Newsgroup Person of the Year?"
"Free booze!" cried CMA. "I'll vote for *anyone* who promises free booze."
"Figures!" grinned Friday. "I've seen you at those IRC parties."
"I'm *not* an alcoholic," protested CMA. "I just like a drink, now and then."
"Now, and then, and then, and then..."
"If you continue with this blatant character assassination," threatened CMA, "I'll punch you on the gin."
"Quod erat demonstrandum."
"All sounds a bit rum to me," added Raz, tossing his head.
"Hey!" said Liz, "It's snowing."
"I do *not* have dandruff," growled Raz, indignantly.
The sunlight filtered through the trees, slowly evaporating the dewdrops. Friday ducked behind a bush and changed the "building site" dress for something more fitting a soldier. Liz petted the muskrats, and thought about "Deputy Dawg" ("Hey, Musky..."). CMA realised (s)he had a drink problem - there wasn't any. Raz hunted for armadillos, found there were none, and sharpened his sword. Time passed.
"Hi, Time," said Friday.
"Re, Friday," replied Time.
Whether they paused for a long time, or a little, nobody knows, but eventally CMA spoke.
"Well, I guess someone has to take control. You know, to recieve nominations, votes and all that. A sort of head juror."
"Well," said Liz, "it can't be any of us. What we need is an impartial observer. A fine, upstanding, honest-on-the-outside-open-to-bribery-on- the-inside type. Any ideas?"
"Armadillos!" cried Raz.
"Raz..." said Liz, "*serious* suggestions, for once, please."
Friday had none. CMA said nothing. Raz scratched his head, extricated himself from the ensuing snowdrift, and opened his mouth.
"Volunteer. That's what we need, a volunteer."
Raz, Friday, CMA and Liz turned to face the sky.
"Anybody...?"