NOTE: These reports from the field may not appear in chronological order but will be arainj^H^H^H^H^H^Hput in the right order as soon as we can figure it out! Battlefield conditions sometimes cause that. Dates are those when the messages were received.
Click on the icons for closeups.
We were several miles (several kilometers) from the site where the protobacon was discovered and were wondering how to get there. Actually, we didn't know which direction to go. We were reasonably sure we were on Mars, though, as everything looked red and it was really, really, really cold.
We were about to give up, look for a gas station, refule, and fly back to Earth.
Suddenly, Cabbage noticed a Mazda driving by in the distance. We stuck our thumbs out to hitch a ride, but it must have confused the driver since we were pointing in different directions. He drove on for a ways, then turned around and came back.
It was a Viking who said he's been this way many times. We asked him where the protobacon was and he said all we had to do was follow those black dashed lines to where all the solid lines came together next to that belly-button (an inny). We asked him for a ride and he shrugged his shoulders and said "Okay."
Spatch got to ride shotgun. The rest of us piled into the back. It was kind of crowded as there were several shiny things with ballbearings on their legs. There was also some perfesser muttering something about forgeries and that he was really his bruwa, not him.
We forgot about that as we watched the dashed lines fly by as the Mazda hurtled through the Barsoomian crimson sward. Spatch broke out his spatula and began polishing it. For some reason, this made the shiney things nervous.
We arrived! The Last Viking wanted 10 Krone for driving us here, then threw us out when all we could come up with were three Zorkmids. It wasn't a total loss, though. To see why, read the information below the following horizontal rule.
To the left, Spatch, God of alt.stupidy, sits atop the captured protobacon and fries the first slice! (Since you had to ask, he's using an electric spatula that's receiving invisible rays from our heroic little robot.)
Cabbage happily sits atop our robot and...and...WASN'T HE OLDER AT THE START OF THIS TRIP????
In the background, Proofesser Bucketmouth watches the activities in order to gather evidence in favor of his quacky theories. He pointedly ignores those big letters floating above his head that announce that the fomormation to the right is the fossile of a Martian protobacon--proof they've been on Mars for at least some time.
Note: The above pictures were used without permission of NASA, Spatch, Cabbage, Bucketmouth, or amp, or anybody else, for that matter. If Ross was here on Mars, he'd prolly sock me to death.
Ask not for whom the bacon fries...