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By Sunday night Frosty has moved to the cover of our hall table.
Frosty: It was warmer and safer.
There's a somber mood Monday morning, as people pack once dressed.
Tye: Monday at the convention always has an incredibly depressing feeling to it.
ChrisReid: What the hell is growing on Frosty's arm?
We found these license places in the other room.
Tye: That radio station sucks.
We found this rare Wing Commander shirt abandoned in the other room too.
Under the bed.
Frosty: Look! A thing!
Beginning the trek down.
Frosty: FROSTY NO WANNA GO! :(
Frosty: Ow?
ChrisReid: The boots cut my legs.
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