1. This story may contain descriptions of sexual acts between boys and/or men and boys so if this is not to your tastes, please leave now. If you are under age, or if it is illegal in your state or country to read or possess material like this then it is in your own interest to leave now.
2. The author owns all copyright to this story. A copy has been placed in this archive for your enjoyment. Please do not distribute it to any news groups and/or other web sites without permission of the author. Authorisation for the free transmission of my unaltered writings can be requested from the author.
3. This story is pure fiction. Any resemblance to any individuals, real or fictional, living or dead is purely coincidental.
4. The author neither encourages nor condones any acts of illicit or underage sex, nor does he encourage any of the unsafe sexual practices described herein.
5. This story is a parody of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs by the brothers Grimm, which is in the public domain, and is in now way associated with any property of the Disney Corporation.
6. You can e-mail your constructive comments to at: g_day@hotmail.com

It had been a truly disastrous trip to London. The train had been full and a very large man had sat upon Pricilla's pink ball-gown, crushing it in the process. Then the good Doctor had suddenly remembered that it was his son's birthday and in remorse removed himself to the Savoy's gentleman's bar where he dug deep into their supply of Scotch single-malts. Poor Pricilla spent the evening watching handsome young doctors waltzing by on the arm of girls who did not look as if they had been dressed from the damaged goods section of the local charity shop.

Finally Mrs. Whyte had had a furious exchange with the hotel manager about the size of the bar bill and she was only silenced when her, still groggy, husband informed her that, if anything, he had been undercharged.

At eleven thirty am on Sunday morning, a very grumpy Mrs Whyte stormed into the library of "Once-Upon-a-Time", and was confronted by the most extraordinary of sights -- Snowy still dressed in his blue ski-pyjamas sat on the library floor, sat shoulder to shoulder with Dick Flaunting-Flasher, his sitter.

The pair had clearly not been to bed. They sat chatting away, as together they surfed the Internet on the older lad's laptop computer.

Bert Goldblatt had not been employed as an actor for more than ten years. In truth, his last proper acting engagement was more like 15 years ago, if you excluded jobs as the Dame in Christmas pantomime, the only role in which he really ever excelled. But those too had dried up ten years ago. It started going wrong when he slapped the Sugarplum Fairy on stage during act two, while he was in a drunken rage. But assaulting the rear end of Jack's faithful cow Betsy, in act three was a considerably worse mistake, as the rear end was played by Garath Bland a Welsh Rugby player, who laid poor Bert Goldblatt out cold with a swift uppercut. The management concluded: while a drunken Dame was better than no Dame - an unconscious Dame was of no use whatsoever. Bert got the sack and the word soon spread to other theatre management's.

Then Telesis Inc. happened in his life and Bert had never been happier in a job. The scam was really very easy: get 'em to call and get 'em to hold on as long as you can as the meter ticks away. Get 'em to start setting silly goals and objectives and tell em to change stupid things, like the house name or getting rid of the cat or dog. Then, when they start to believe things are coming to pass, you have got 'em! Then you milk 'em dry. A fixed salary and 20% commission on billings for his clients and he was doing better than he ever had in his acting life.

Bert adopted the voice of the Pantomime Dame, he had once been famous for, called himself Madame Zelda and he was an immediate hit with the gullible callers. The fact that Bert was often drunk on the job just added to the mystery of his readings, the callers assuming the poor woman was in a demented trance.

Bert switched on his computer terminal and light up another Camel while he checked his organiser for the day. He had seven fixed time calls and then there was the Whyte woman, what a little gold mine she was turning out to be.

He decided he would call her this time. It was a nice touch and helped persuade the punters that Madame Zelda was not solely interested in the ticking of the meter.

"Oh Mistress Whyte..." he gushed "such news, such news...."

"Oh Madame Zelda I know. Isn't it too dreadful?"

This was were Bert always had to be very careful. He was calling her, because Madame Zelda was supposed to know already what the woman was about to say BUT at the same time he had to get the facts out of her, with out her guessing he did not know. He took a swig of whiskey for luck and waited...

Silence has a wonderful effect.

Soon the silly woman was babbling away about how ball had been a failure! How they had forgotten the stepson's birthday! How her husband had drowned his remorse at this oversight in Savoy's finest whiskey! How her dreadful stepson, Snowy, had spent his Saturday night exploring the Internet under the guidance of the sitter, who had seemed so promising at first! And how his father had now decided to buy him a computer of his own, in order to make up for overlooking his birthday.

"And we are talking of a more than to a thousand pounds, Madame Zelda. A thousand pounds imagine what a find wardrobe I could have bought poor Pricilla with that kind of money." The woman raved on, "it is so unfair!"

Bert actually felt sorry for the poor doctor having this manipulating bitch for a wife but more so for this poor boy that was her stepson. But his wave of humanity soon passed and he got back to the game: how to maximise his billings for the day and have more to spend at the Rose and Crown that evening.

"Ah yes Madame, but Chief Deerhunter tells me this Flaunting-Flasher, his babysitter is a mere tool of the spirits. There are ever so many temptations to lead a boy astray on the Internet and I had warned you that he would be visited by powerful of spectres from around the world. If the powerful of spectres from around the world choose to visit via the Internet that is up to the wisdom of the spiritual realm. The spirits who know all have led young Snowy to this place." Bert took a drag on his Camel and waited for the effect.

"Oh my! Are you saying this was meant to be?" Bert grinned to himself and remained silent.

"He looked far too happy to have been tormented by spectres."

"The spirits sometimes need time there are all sorts of snares for the young and unsuspecting on the superhighway... Drugs, sex, or perhaps he will lured into become a kiddie-porn star.... Need I say more?"

"Hmm. That will certainly shock his father. Well... I suppose the cost of a computer is a small price to pay if it is going to get him into trouble of that sort..."

"The Mirror on the Wall Psychic Guidance knows that sometimes you need to make sacrifices sometimes these are financial, speaking of which, Madame dearest, I have a message for you from a long ancestor of yours. It has cost Chief Deerhunter a great deal to get this private message to you and it will alas cost us here at Mirror on the Wall Psychic Guidance a great deal of money to have it deciphered by an Egyptologist."

"Oh my! Are you saying there is a message from ancient Egypt, for me? What can it be? Please tell me..."

"That is the trouble Madame we transcribed it here in a five hour long trance but it is all in hieroglyphics and we cannot understand it. If you could find some way to help financing the translation..."

"Oh my!" Mrs Whyte hesitated, the Doctor was already complaining about her extravagance, but a message from ancient Egypt, what could it all mean?

"We can have one of you top Egyptologist attend to it right away and I can call you back in a few days when he is done..."

"Oh my!" Mrs Whyte stamped her foot impatiently. "Do you mean I will have to wait? Well, of course, whatever it costs! You have my credit card details, just get it done, as soon as possible. We need to secure my beloved Pricilla's future."

Bert Goldblatt loved a sucker almost as much as he loved his whiskey.

There was a great flurry of excitement the day the courier firm delivered five, portentously large cardboard boxes that held Snowy Whyte's TX-S3-833 computer. It was the largest and most expensive gift his dad had ever given him, and he was desperately keen to get to work on his own PC system.

Perhaps he had eventually found a hobby that would keep him occupied during the long summer holidays and maybe even keep his young mind off sex.

Mrs Whyte was excited because the sooner Snowy went online, the sooner he would be kidnapped by one of the many white slavers she felt certain lurked on the Internet!

If the other inhabitants of "Once-upon-a-Time" were excited, Pricilla was ecstatic. Mrs Whyte had arranged for Robert Flaunting-Flasher to come around and help Snowy set his new equipment up and this offered the fat spotty girl the opportunity to flirt with the tall son of the Regimental Sargent-Major.

"I am ever so honoured that you should invite me back to your home Mrs. Whyte," Dick Flaunting-Flasher started in his oily-smooth tones, "we shall have young Snowy up and running in two shakes of a CD-ROM." Snowy groaned, as Dick cracked one of his rather pathetic Computer-nerd jokes!

The proud young owner of a new TX-S3-833 sat watching the tall angular sixteen-year-old. He rather wished he could like the youth but he had this awfully of-putting character -- obsequious and cringing one moment and cold and aloof the next. Worst of all, he had this disagreeable way of referring to Snowy, as "Young Snowy", as if he were forty years old himself and Snowy was some lower life form.

"Oh I say you must be extremely clever to know how to put the right plugs into the right sockets," said Pricilla blushing bright scarlet under several thick layers of pimple cream and makeup, secretly fantasising that the tall sad-faced boy was plugging her own moist socket!

"Oh no Miss, I am just a humble computer hobbyist, we can all learn these things. It would be my honour and privilege to teach you how to do so, if you liked." He said in his mournful tones as his long clumsy fingers removed the computer tower from several layers of Styrofoam.

"Oh could I Mama?"

"Good Lord, no!" Mrs Whyte said resolutely, if one of the youngsters in "Once-upon-a-Time" had to be abducted by pornographers it was certainly not going to be her precious Pricilla, she had to be kept as far from the perils of the Internet as possible.

"Mother always knows best," said Dick in his best slimy-toad manner. This reply made Mrs. Whyte appreciate him even more; made Pricilla straighten-up sharply, as a lusty wetness spread in her large-but-frilly underwear; and made Snowy want to throw-up!

In no time at all the boxes were cleared and a hum of static lighted up the 17" monitor for the very first time. Mrs. Whyte had to actually drag Pricilla to the morning room for a reprimand on not being too forward with young men, especially the painfully shy ones.

Dick spent a further two hours with Snowy showing him the rudimentary points of word processing, games and then finally showed him how to log on to the internet. He collected a small fee from Mrs. Whyte for his time and left after wishing "Young Snowy" well and informing him to check his e-mail as Dick would mail him soon.

Left at last to his own devices Snowy set to work exploring the wonders of modern technology -- making an awful lot of mistakes, but finding that it was not nearly as complex as he had feared.

By dinner time, Snowy had mastered two computer games -- but resolved that games were a waste of time -- and written a letter to Father Christmas on the word processor asking him for a special-boyfriend each, for both Dopey and himself, like Osbert had found in Damien Smyke.

The week that followed Snowy spent all his time closeted in his room with the TX-S3-833. The PC had almost become a friend to him. He had toured Disneyland; looked up all sorts of interesting things and found out how to build a pipe-bomb!

Accessing 'the Internet' was astonishingly easy he had found. Snowy's PC was had several Windows icons and one of these was named Internet -- you simply clicked on it and you were there. He had overheard several of the lads at school saying that the Internet had porn on it. Snowy knew porn had something to do with sex. Perhaps that was why, whenever Snowy heard about the porn on the Internet that he found his dick started to get unaccountably stiff and hard.

Snowy had not seen any porn yet on the net but even the thought of finding something was getting him into a state of great agitation. It all came to pass by complete accident.

As he sat messing around with something called a search engine, his creative mind started dreaming up the silliest things he could and seeing what the search engine made of it. "Silly Stuff" produced a list of links to jokes, some of which were very funny indeed. Realising he had tumbled onto something rather fun, Snowy now entered the words "boy's toilet." More than 3000 entries were listed. Snowy laughed out loud was there no limit to the stupid stuff out there?

He clicked on one of the links at random. A long body of text suddenly appeared. He scanned it rapidly and his pretty chiselled jaw dropped open -- this was a great shock!

The story was about how a boy was met in a toilet by an older man. After luring the boy into a cubical the man did all sorts of rude things to the boy. It seemed the boy was a bit alarmed at first but the man knew how to make the boy really take pleasure from what the bloke did to him. Snowy was compelled to squeeze his cock very firmly as it rose to full erection in his short trousers. The story, while not very long, was very explicit in its detail. The description of the thirteen-year-old boy's cock was lovingly written, with exquisite attention to even the smallest detail -- Snowy thought he could almost smell the boy's cum as he reread the story for the second time.

He had discovered porn! However, it was not the sort of porn the lads at school were talking about - that was full of ladies with great big boobs. No, this was porn that was of considerably more interest to Snowy Whyte. Convinced that this was a one-off fluke of nature, Snowy immediately listed the story under his list of favourites and promised himself to come back to it that night to have good toss-off as he read it that night in his pyjamas.

With trembling hands he clicked on one of the other links under the search engine window.

Here he found a letter from a twelve years old boy who had read the pervious story. Now the boy confessed that he spent hours hanging around the school toilets or down town at the local bus terminus. He lived in hope that some bloke would lure him into a cubicle and show him his big prick. The lad was definitely keen to try any or all of the things described so lovingly in the story. He was asking other readers if he should make the first move- could he just walk up to some bloke and ask him to show him his man-sized willy?

"Oh... err!" Snowy groaned. Has his felt his penis give sudden lurch. Could it be there were more sexually curious people in the world than Grumpy, Bashful, Dopey and himself?

Could it be that the Internet was some amazing way in which people with the same dirty thoughts as he had? Could similarly minded people meet up and swap ideas and information?

He wondered if he should e-mail the twelve year old boy and ask him if he had had any luck with getting hold of a man's willy. Perhaps he and his mates should invite the boy over to play with them? It never occurred to the naive boy that the "the twelve-year-old lad" could be in America or perhaps not be a boy at all -- Snowy had a lot to learn.

Snowy's face was flushed with excitement as he returned to window with the search engine and the list of links on the subject of "Boy's Toilet", when a little box flashed-up on his screen advising him that he had mail.

Snowy had had his TX-S3-833 for a week now and had not as yet received a single e-mail. Besides no one knew that he had an e-mail address other than Dick Flaunting-Flasher, who had set it up for him. That had to be it! Dick had said he would mail Snowy.

With some apprehension Snowy followed the instructions clicking on button icons and soon found he was reading a Message from a company called ICQ advising him that someone called "SleepY" was on line and wished to talk to him.

Snowy had no idea what the message could mean. He looked suspiciously behind the computer to see if some strange camera was watching him -- how did it know he was there? Worse yet, did it know what he had just been reading? He blushed furiously at this latter thought.

If it wanted to "talk to him" was there some kind of built in telephone or something like that?

Plucking up his courage he clicked on the box that indicated that he agreed to being connected to this SleepY whoever he, she or it, may be.

Then every thing happened at once! A program download commenced and after a time it auto-installed itself. By now Snowy's apprehension had changed to something approaching pride of at the very least a feeling of accomplishment. He had managed to get the computer to load a chat program and even given himself a name -- not very inventively he had chosen "Snowy".

Just then he was shocked when a little electronic voice went "Oh-Oh!" and a window popped up and winked at him advising him that "SleepY is on line!"

Before he could think twice he found a message box appearing that asked him to click on that box of he wished to accept a chat with the said "SleepY"

As if by magic a box appeared split into two boxes on black with yellow text and the other a was solid blue colour.

Snowy wished he knew what to do next he leaned a little closse to the computer and said "Hallo"

Feeling a little foolish that he was doing what a computer told him to he picked out the letters Y E S. Astonishingly the text appeared in the box in white letter on the blue back ground. Snowy grinned in delight.

Snowy was now grinning like a cat that had stolen the cream and he picked out another message. SleepY? It was a hell of an appropriate name for Dick Flaunting-Flasher.

Well that Snowy certainly did see and he found Dick online seemed some how different - he was rude and bossy not his usual smarmy self.

Slowly but clearly impatient SleepY as he called himself online - explained how Snowy should avoid give his clues to his identity or personal information online. Snowy found this was rather troubling - especially when SleepY recommended that he pretended that he was older than he actually was.

For a brief moment Snowy wondered if he fully understood what he was letting himself in for. But he presumed that SleepY knew what he was talking about and so Snowy's online ID became "snwy-m16" and he became a tall, black-haired, well-build, sixteen-year-old living in Yorkshire, if anyone asked.

Snowy giggled at the thought and squeezed his little hairless penis in his shorts, as if to reassure himself that it had not magically turned into the hairy throbbing log of a sixteen-year-old Yorkshire lad.

With a few methodical, and by now well practised, keystrokes, Snowy connected to the Internet and zoomed towards a Web chat community he had been introduced to by "SleepY" a few days earlier.

He was not much for cyber-chatting, mainly because of his extreme youth. It seemed everyone he talked to always seemed to find him silly and immature - which, of course, he was -- they of course expected they were chatting to a sixteen-year-old football crazy lad from Yorkshire.

He had discovered that other than ICQ, there was also IRC, a better populated vehicle, that had these exciting rooms with names proclaiming wicked fun inside. It seemed to have hundreds of gay-theme chat rooms. Snowy had drifted from room to room over several days and nights: "#BigQueerTalk" or "#CockClub"; perhaps the oddly named "#TwinkSukers" - what ever a twink might be; there was even "#TeenBoyWankers", where he met other boys who were only too keen to discuss or compare their masturbatory practices.

The verbal exhibitionists that inhabited these rooms would say intensely rude things to each other in the open chat rooms - things about fucking and sucking and what they were doing with their hands right there and then! But more often they give graphic detail of what they would do with their hands and cocks, if they were really in the same room together! It drove poor Snowy's up the proverbial wall, not to mention what it did to his overworked eleven-year-old dick!

Then one day it all got out of hand, while reading one such erotic interchange - some guy had been telling the room that he had shot a load of hot cream onto the screen itself. Snowy found this so exciting and he was masturbating so furiously that he did not hear someone knocking at his door until it was too late -- Dick Flaunting-Flasher had, apparently, dropped by to check on how Snowy was getting on with the computer.

Poor Snowy died a thousand deaths!

"I am most humbly sorry to have disturbed you," said Dick in his most obsequious fashion, "I shall return at a more convenient and less troublesome time."

It was a narrow escape and Snowy took to locking his bedroom door when on line.

He had not chatted to Dick or "SleepY" since then and when he did come across him, he appeared even more rude than before and preoccupied with other things.

Snowy turned his attention to the chat line once more. Snowy signed in as snwy-m16 the name he had invented with Dick. He clicked on a chat room "#boysex" one he had earnestly wanted to enter in the past, but for some reason was too timid to do so. With a resolute click of the mouse he was in! Snowy surveyed the room: 9 other chatters. Two of the chatters commenced:

This was amazing! The talk here was as rude as he had heard and it was about boys his own age and even younger! Snowy knew that most of the rudest talk took place when two chatters left the open room and talked privately, one-on-one. He had been too nervous to agree the few propositions for private parties on previous occasions, but today he was so horny and so sure that he could say enough filthy things to rival the very rudest boy in the land.

Trading? Trading what? Snowy knew there were other things going on here that he had not come across before. The excitement was too much for him after checking that the bedroom door was locked, he slipped his shorts down to his ankles and gazed at the tip of his hard penis, which was winking lustily at him from the protective folds of his foreskin. Then the chatter called "DoK!" addressed him.

Snowy was dead set against telling fibs, but what else could he do? He typed as fast as he could with his left hand and stroked his throbbing three-and-a-bit with the right.

Snowy grinned contentedly! At last some nice guys who were friendly and didn't think little boys were silly -- he felt immediately at home.

It was happening. Snowy thought this "DoK!" guy seemed very nice and he had invited him for a private chat with this heart in his excited little throat he asked the "DoK!" to explain how to do this private chat stuff. Mean while he just couldn't pry his hand away from his hard little dick.

Just as Snowy finished typing, a nervous shiver wracked his small body. Then something started happening. The computer asked him if he wished to accept a JPG -- whatever the heck that was! Goosebumps broke out across his arms as he agreed!

On the one hand Snowy found himself relaxing in the company of this odd bunch of people but at on the other he experienced a knot of sexual tension in the pit of his stomach. The file transfer of the JPG ended.

As impatient and dismissive as Dick had been, so this "DoK!" chap was charming and patient. He explained to Snowy how to locate and then open the file.

Snowy Whyte would never forget the next few minutes of his short but not entirely uneventful life. He would remember this as a watershed -- his life would always divided into a before jake&bro.jpg period and the after jake&bro.jpg era!

The explorer window opened and revealed a black and white photograph. It showed the simple interior of an American farmhouse kitchen, a calendar on the wall showed that it had been taken sometime in July 1955. The photograph exhibited great artistic talent -- it was well composed, the subjects were tastefully back lit and in very sharp focus -- but Snowy only had time to appreciate the artistic merits of the picture much, much latter - for right now, he could only focus on the subject.

A fresh-faced boy of about twelve, short-cut blond hair swept into one of those silly brush-cuts so fashionable in the fifties, sat with his bottom on the kitchen table, mischievously grinning a broken-toothed smile at the photographer. He had his left foot raised on a kitchen chair and his right dangled lazily.

Two things set the picture apart from other fifties photographs Snowy had seen in his dad's back-issues of Life magazine: firstly the boy was stark naked! Secondly, kneeling on the floor between the boy's smooth legs was a nineteen or twenty-year-old dark-haired dude who, from the facial similarity, was obviously his older brother, and he had the younger boy's hard cock firmly lodged between his hungry lips!

Snowy felt his short blond hair standing on end. The gooseflesh, once more, enveloped his arms and legs and he thought his heart had stood still! With trembling fingers he managed to type a reply.

The photograph had a profound effect on Snowy. He knew what he was looking at was naughty, sinful even, he was breaking the law by merely having it on his computer, but he could not help feeling marvellously reassured by it! Not only was he not the fist boy to let older guys play with him, but it had been going on for years, and judging by the expression of undisguised pleasure, both sucker and sucked were enjoying it as much as Snowy and his anorak friends enjoyed boy sex.

Finally, unmistakably, there was something more -- he had always been told that boys who had sex with older brothers or men were victims, they were abused or maltreated, but the twinkle in the boy's eye left no room for doubt: in this relationship he was clearly the boss! He was the one who determined when and how his cock-addicted brother sucked on his hard tool, with its sparse crop of short blond hairs!

Snowy gathered up spittle on his right index finger for the jerk-off that was now unavoidable, as he typed eagerly with his left hand again.

But there was no time for any further refection on this life-altering moment for at that second a message flashed on screen:

This rude message had popped up in a private chat window!

Just minutes before, seeing that photograph of jake&bro.jpg had changed the way he thought about himself as a young boy and how he viewed sex between men and boys. Until that point he had thought that the highlight of sex was messing with his three young anorak friends, now other vistas were opening up!

There was an inexplicably long pause. Snowy wondered if he should say something. "DoK!" sounded so nice -- so unlike Dick Flaunting-Flasher. He cleared his throat, and type away hoping he would not somehow scared the guy off.

Snowy grinned fiendishly. As devious young boys tend to do, he turned from being utterly defeated (when SleepY ran off with ali mir) to completely unassailable in one nanosecond.

Snowy couldn't quite contain his laughter. This was irresistibly funny!

And so <DoK!> explained the subtle modern art of mutual masturbation with the aid of modern technology and non of the practical down sides. Snowy's cock took over his thinking for him!

So saying snowy slipped off all his clothing and set his hand to work flailing away, his right hand sliding up and down all three and a bit inches at breakneck speed. Suddenly, Snowy really liked this new technique.

Typing slowly now, Snowy was desperately trying to find a mean between fevered masturbation, and leisurely milking. He didn't want the exchange to end.

Sweat gleamed against the nape of Snowy's neck. His entire body was flustered with the glow of sex. Snowy managed to jam his entire index finger up his own butt when he saw that fingering action appear on screen. Something deep inside of him responded.

For a long while Snowy was totally removed from either his computer of aware of what he had been doing. Eventually became aware that he and his chat partner had shared strange, yet exhilarating, sexual climax. He shook his head in disbelief, a drop or two of sweat falling from his blond mop to his naked leg. Snowy tried to return his hazy focus to the keyboard.

In the week that followed, Snowy Whyte spent time daily chatting away online with DoK!

DoK! was as charming and pleasant a companion as a lad could hope to find. That was more they shared a serious interest in dicks, boys and sexy talk!

Snowy would soon be fully erect after reading one of the many porn stories sent to him by DoK! He would squeeze the end of his little stiff prick as his older online buddy explained how to get into newsgroups where they would find picture of very skinny, but very smooth skinned little boys, many even younger than Snowy himself.

Snowy wanted to meet DoK! in real life - maybe invite him to wank off with him, but the other lad never made any attempt to even see him, though Snowy had long since worked out that they were both in the southern part of England.

They would also see SleepY from time to time. The name Sleepy really suited the lanky teen with the odd Jeckle and Hyde personality. He continues to be seriously unpleasant to Snowy at every given opportunity and often only stopped in this harassment when DoK! stepped in.

But try as he may, just the thought of Dick's stiff prick got Snowy going. He was obsessed with the thought of seeing it! The dammed youth seemed happy to show it off to all and sundry but steadfastly refused to show it to Snowy- as if this would be breaking some ultimate rule.

Then it happened. After clicking on a link, a window opened and there, at the desk in his bedroom at the army barracks, sat Dick Flaunting-Flasher, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, his face barely out of camera range. The bluish light of the computer screen reflected off his skin as he sat in the darkened room.

His near adult nerdiness made Snowy get really hard. Snowy watched him type on the keyboard and a message appeared.

But Snowy Whyte could not trust his fingers to type a response.

e-mails to g_day@hotmail.com