"Very well," said Punk Walrus. "I shall attempt to fill a page with nothing." And so he began sorting his socks. Sid was quick to
comment that paragraph style was being abused. Punk waved him away with a flipper, and said that in order to properly fill a web page,
they would have to forego the usual route of filling pages with one-word quotes. "Oh." said Sid, but Julie didn't think Sid really
understood. Punk was sure of it. Krakken did nothing but buff his tentacles with a plastic bottle of "Octo-Sheen: The
Buffer-in-the-bottle for keeping those pseudopodia looking shiny and brite!" Julie commented that the reason the results were so poor was
that Krakken had actually 8 true arms, and 2 feelers. "Pseudopodia," she explained with that Harvard education, "...are on amorphous
masses of creatures. Technically, the word 'Pseudopod' means 'false foot', and so that is why you are getting that dull gray waxy slime
residue instead of clean suckers." Krakken pretended like he cared. Robb Starr, the Crabby Crustacean finally announced he was starting
off on his solo career, just like Phil Collins. When nobody reacted, he said it again, and proclaimed that he might leave the group.
Julie took another bite of her apple, engrossed in a lusty historical romance novel involving Plato and Socrates. Punk Walrus began to
realize the shortcomings of his sock-sorting effort, when he realized that walruses don't wear socks. "Duh!" he said, slapping his
forehead with his flipper. Robb started to throw a tantrum that almost got Sid's attention away from the television. "I SAID-" "You said
you might leave the group," Julie repeated, without looking up from her book. "You say that every time we discuss salaries. I mean, you
haven't even spent last year's salary yet. What's the big deal? There ain't no way this girl is gonna find a way to spend $40 million a
year. There are only so many Barbie Doll products out there." Krakken smiled, "In order to spend my money faster, I invested it in
American Farming until it all dwindled away." Sid mentioned something about paying for a tote bag during a PBS Pledge Break, but was
muffled when he ate another Twinkie. Robb sat down, defeated again by annoying logic and satiric comments on everyday life. "What this
story needs is a plot." Punk commented. Sid agreed, and with that he promptly had a heart attack. "Gee, that was fast." said Julie on
her way to the hospital. "Yeah," Punk agreed, while waiting in the hospital lobby, "the story is really picking up the pace." Sid nodded
in agreement, and went back to his hospital room to pick up his things. "Good thing I have Green Cross." He said, picking up workman's
comp. "Workman's comp?" Krakken cried out, "For what?" Punk thought for a second, and said "Well, this story did almost kill him for the
sake of a plot advance." Everyone nodded in agreement, and hoped they'd get injured, too. Julie even tried to saw her arm off, but it
was out of character for her part. So Krakken hit her. Punk hit Krakken. Robb, annoyed he didn't have a part in that last few
sentences, hit everybody, until there was an all out drag-out, knock-down brawl on the rec room floor. Punk chipped a tusk, Krakken
stretched a tentacle, Robb lost a small leg, Julie got a black eye, and Sid was undamaged, but upset because Punk rolled over on his box
of Twinkies. "They're all mushed..." he pouted. Suddenly, dramatic music sounded. "What was that?" Julie asked. "Look!" Punk
discovered, "It's the end of the story!"