Febby

                          by Jean Blevins

     Over the past two months, The Free American bulletin board upgraded to
new and better software, and acquired an entity ranking somewhere between a
curse and a mascot. These two events are connected, as you will see. But of
the two, it is the latter which has sparked the most comment, and possibly
the most enjoyment - at times - from users.

     While your sysop/managing editor struggled with the upgrade, users
noticed a series of mysterious disappearances in the Files department. Most
victimized by the intermittent problem was a file called GN2000.TXT, a
document written and uploaded by Joshua Jones.

     Jones' patience, and that of readers seeking to read his document, was
tried and tested as the file appeared, disappeared, reappeared under a new
name, disappeared again, reappeared, disappeared and took most of the rest
of the files with it, and, finally, took all the files with it.

     Your sysop/managing editor reasoned that these problems were
undoubtedly caused by a -- File Eating Beast. Much discussion of this
phenomenon among users in this city of acronyms soon named the creature
F.E.B. - or Febby. 

     Febby was quite fascinated by the change to the new, grander software,
which your sysop/managing editor viewed as moving from a cramped old
dwelling into a new, large home. And it became clear he was somewhat of a
jokester, revealed on that grand and glorious moving day when The Free
American finally moved from its old home to the new one. Your sysop/managing
editor reported to the users as follows, dated January 25, 1993.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

     For anyone eagerly awaiting our move to the new software, here is the
update.  I finally got started o the final changeover - put a buncha stuff
on the hard drive, etc., backed everything up like the instruction book
said. It was like packing to move to another house, maybe like a big,
Victorian-type mansion from our little, crowded apartment-sized software.

     Anyway, I finally pushed the dread button - hit * enter * for the end
of the world as we know it, not knowing exactly what would happen, and...
.....whoosh, whoosh, zip, slap went those bits of data, flying from their
old home to the new one.

     A thermometer-like diagram on the screen reported how far the move had
progressed. 50%, 60%, 70%, 80% - wow, this is pretty easy, I thought! - 80%,
80%, 80%......wait a minute, what is this with 80%?

     I checked the instruction book. "The transfer may take a relatively
long time..." Hm. I went and got another glass of iced tea. Still 80%. I
put the cats out and sent the dogs to bed for the night. Still 80%. I got
suspicious, and started yelling to Febby.

Jean:     "Febby, what are you doing?"

FEB: (voice floating up from the basement of the new home) HOO HOOO
HOOOOO

Jean:     "Answer me! What are you doing?"

FEB:      HAAAAAAA HAAA HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Jean:     "You are entirely too cheerful. I better investigate." I ran over
to the new place, looked downstairs into the basement, and there was a huge
collection of files stuck sideways in a hall in the basement. A great
cluster of electrons were all clumped up around the side of it, pushing and
sweating as hard as they could. And there, on the other side, was a big dark
form leaning against the file collection and laughing.

FEB:      HEEEEEE HEEEEEEEEEEEEEE  HEEEEEEEEEEE

Jean:     Febby, stop that right now! Let those electrons through!

FEB:      YAHHHHHHH HAHHHHHHHH

Jean:     (Stomps back to the old home.)"All right for you, Febby." (Hits
control, alt and delete.) "We are just going to pretend this never
happened, and try again tomorrow."

-----------------------------------
     Well, the grand experiment finally succeeded, despite Febby's playful
efforts at teasing the electrons and repeatedly logging off your sysop/
managing editor. But as a result, Febby developed many friends of his own
(probably the ones who told him to log me off.)  He's even been spotted on
other bbs's, and now when files mysteriously disappear, users don't have to
scream "@#$%$#@" as in the past. They just say, "Febby strikes again!"

     One of Febby's best friends developed not one, but two stories about
the lovable renegade. We present them here, and hope you enjoy them as
much as Febby and I did.
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