Valerie chimed in at that point, “Boys, why don’t you stop flexing your testosterone and simply draw straws? Shortest straw wins. I’ll even draw one with you.”

“Count me in, too,” added Jackie. “Let’s get this thing up and running.” To the crew, drawing straws did appear to be the only fair way to choose and Sally was more than willing to hold the straws for the rest of them to pluck out the winner, while refraining from drawing one of her own.

Though short on real straws, matchsticks and the like, they found zip-strips served the purpose quite well. Sally found that she could hold the strips upright, with the length concealed up her sleeve, without difficulty. Jackie reached out first, pulling out a twelve-inch nylon strip and laid it on the table. Valerie drew an identical strip. “Well, either we’re both going or neither one of us is,” she hooted and they all laughed. Next, Carl stretched out a hand slowly, then, he quickly jerked a zip-strip out of Sally’s grip, almost causing a friction burn to her fingers, as he kept the zip-strip hidden from the rest of the crew. “Sorry,” he told her, seeing the look of pain on her face.

“OK,” said Tom, with a bit of an eye roll at Carl. “I’m up next.” Tom’s zip-strip was an eight-inch, which he laid next to Jackie’s.

“Is there any point in me picking?” Brandon inquired.

Smiling broadly, Sally came back with, “Sure, there is always a chance yours will be shorter. No pun intended.”

They all laughed again, but Brandon stopped short and growled out with mock ferociousness at Sally, “You’ve been peeking.” He pulled the last zip-strip. It too, was eight inches. Then, Carl held out his arm and closed hand, opening his fist slowly, then widely grinning like a Cheshire cat. There in his palm was the only six-inch zip-strip on the ship. Ready or not, Carl was elected to be the one heading outside.

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