They stared at each other across the void. In the background, Tracy and Tracy try to figure out what went wrong. The patterns, the patterns!
“It’s no use,” Tracy Austin 01 desponds. “We can’t get through.”
“Go on,” the second Tracy urges, head upright. “It’s worth a second try don’t you think?”
The correct reality locked in. The patterns are able to be heard now. Yippy!
“Dot dot dot,” she translates, playing her trump card. “Dot dot…”
“War!” she then screams toward mommy while bolting up.
“There, there Sport,” Uncle Barnacles rattled. “Ship’s gonna come *any* day now.”
“It’s been *five years*,” his hound speaks droopingly. “I’m tired of perpetual motion.”
“There, there. Now, now.”
Black Rain (old ship) will do for now. Craighead Phillips, wearing a combined option 1 and 2 look until the polling’s closed, applies facelight and heads to sea. Patterns he’ll examine today. Maybe walk on the bottom but maybe not. Bottom writing.
“So long, Unk!” he shouts back while steaming forward.
“That ship ain’t going *nowhere*,” Sport slops. “Corralled.”
“Five years,” Uncle Barnacles slips. “Any day now,” he then adds, rocking and staring while the ship also rocks in place.
“And I have multiple options for my looks.”
“Ah hem,” she laughs liltingly. “So do I.”
“If the voters choose option two,” Tracy Austin continues, “then I will look like this.”
“Better adjust the poll to reflect this,” Craighead Phillips suggests.
Craighead Phillips stares at a current picture of himself and wonders: Is this really the *me* me?
Because he has options.
Vote now! Which is *your* favorite Phillips?