*Phone Rings*
   Green Gibbon! shifts his gaze from the Dead or Alive h-doujinshi in his hands to the Sonic-shaped phone. The black paint on Sonic's pupils has worn through, revealing the white plastic underneath. The whole device is splattered with mustard, pizza sauce, cheese whiz, Drano, and just a little of everything else that's ever crossed its path. Assessing the situation, Gibbon verbally shares one critical thought: "Ew." He averts his gaze back to the comic, which is stained with splotches of drool and other fluids best left unidentified. 

*phone rings*
   Possessed Spam and Bo, in another room in Driftaway Studios, are engaged in the advanced stages of a Chu² grudge match gone horribly wrong. In a mighty downward thrust of the Cow Blade, Spam splits the wooden coffee table into two clean-cut pieces. With one hand, he rips the massive sword out of the terrific gash in the floor and swings it up to Bo's neck. "Hast thou any final requests, bastard KapuKapu child?"
   Bo's ice cold gaze meets Spam's triumphant stare head-on. "Just one," Bo mutters, silently reaching for the magnum hidden in his vest. "Kiss my ChuChu!" 


*phone rings*
   Spam and Bo drop their weapons and exchange disapproving glances. Spam turns around and hollers to Gibbon: "Hey, Double G! Will you get that? It's throwing off our concentration!"
   "I'm busy."
   "So?!"
   "Shutup, Spam."


   Meanwhile, in the screening room, Delphine and Dark Gibbon? -- all decked out in festive Latin regalia, gaze intently upon the large screen. Below, G. Silver is hard at work tinkering with a Samba de Amigo machine. A flash of light followed immediately by an ear-splitting snap echo from Silver and the Samba machine. The lights go out for a moment, then the screen lights up with the Samba title screen. Silver's motionless carcass lies smoking beneath the charred machine.
   "Hm, he did it!" Dark proclaims.
   Del glances down at the remains of Silver. "Yeah, but he died."
   "A noble death. Well now, let us dance my sweet señorita!"
   "It's a VERSUS match. You can play LoveLove mode with yourself for all I care."
   "Now, don't be that way my luscious Linda look-alike! Come on over here, Dark'll give you some luvin', Latin-style!"
   "Want a maraca up your-"



*phone rings*
   Dark and Del simultaneously drop their maracas. The deceased Silver lifts his head up and exclaims: "It's-a me, Mario! Actually, I mean, uh...some one answer that damned phone, it's enough to wake the dead!"
   "Yeah," exclaims Dark, "and I was this close from getting sweet señorita Del LAID!"
   "I'd belt you," remarks Del, "but I'm afraid you'd enjoy it." 


*phone rings*
   Gibbon gawks with dirty glee at the hentai material in his sweaty palms, a stream of drool flowing steadily from his lower lip. "Ooh, yeah! You know what I like, Kasumi-chan! Do it, baby! Do it!" At that moment the door bursts open, and the vengeful mob of agitated GHZers raid Gibbon's private hentai chamber. He drops the comic and wards the horde back with the Sacred Veal Cane.
   "I hope - I mean I really hope - that you're in here to inform me that the Second Coming is upon us."
   A series of flashes circle around the room as every player holds a torch to the stacks of h-mangas scattered around. Gibbon drops the Veal Cane and backs off in terror. "You...you wouldn't dare..."
   "You wanna find out," Spam shoots back, "Or you wanna answer the phone? Your choice."
   "Oh...sure," Gibbon shrugs, walking over to the Sonic phone. Spam, Bo, Del, Dark, and dead Silver gather around as Gibbon picks up the receiver...
Gibbon: "Hello?"
Voice on the other end: "Whaazaaaap?!"


   HALT! Now here's where you come in, dear reader! Who is it on the other line? Choose one of the names listed below, and E-mail me your selection. The results will be counted and the story will be continued on Monday, with the results of the vote! So, who's it gonna be? 

The traitorous Eternal Gamer, who wants us to take a survey? 
The traitorous Moon, who is hawking the phone sex service she now works for? 
The villainous Zero, who was trying to call for pizza but dialed the wrong number? 
Our old pal WB, who can't remember what he called for? 
   (Dear God, it's been a slow week, y'know?)