Greg, dazed but also hungry, hung up. He headed downstairs, his tummy rumbling and grumbling. Susan looked up at him and asked, "Who was on the phone?"
Greg replies, "Well, I tried to call in for a free grill in a contest, but I got a wrong number... some other outfit called Weight Gain hotline, or something... anyway, I hung up," he concluded, not wanting to admit that he'd played Question Time with a prerecorded voice. The number he'd been invited to call later started running through his head..... 555-6789... 555-6789.
"Well, get your butt over to the table, breakfast's all ready, and everybody else is HUNGRY!"
A wave of breakfast smells broke over Greg, making him forget - temporarily - the Weight Gain Hotline. As he sat down, the rest of the family dug in.
Half an hour later, Greg and Junior are still plowing steadily through breakfast, while Mary has slid off her chair and gone to get a doll, and Lucy has put down her fork and picked up her phone. Susan is slowing chewing one last piece of bacon, but mostly admiring how her husband, and increasingly her son, can pack away food.
Soon, though, even big Greg is full, and pushes his well-padded self away from the table. He carries a stack of dishes to the kitchen, then retreats to his workshop, where he spends many Saturday mornings. As soon as he gets there....
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