"Haven't you been listening to Robb?" put in John, the broad-shouldered, construction-worker type of the group. "He's raising the taxes. You know who that's going to hit the hardest, don't you? Small businessmen like us."

"Speak for yourself, Johnny," Tucker snorted. He was the physical opposite of John, being rather short and rotund. "Unlike some, I wouldn't exactly call my business little ... excuse me, small."

"Would you like to step outside and say that, Tuck?" John said, getting to his feet and straightening to his full, considerable height.

"Umm, Johnny? We are outside," Tucker said wearily, making no effort to match John's actions.

Even though they were good friends and neighbors, the 'big/little' thing was a sore spot between the two men. Tucker owned several franchises of the biggest fast-food chain in Possiltum, making him notably more successful than John, whose third attempt at starting a company, this one renting porta-potties, was still struggling for life.

"Could you two knock it off for a while?" said Robb impatiently. 'This is important."

"Sorry, Robb," John said, sinking back into a sitting position. "It's just that the Cholesterol King here gets under my skin from time to time."

"It's just that some of us have the sense to give the people what they want... like ready-cooked food," Tucker sniffed. "Why try to rent porta-potties in a country where most folks' idea of a toilet is the nearest tree or bush?"

"For the same reason some people don't eat at your grease holes," John shot back. "They appreciate sanitation."

"Sanitation, is it?" Tucker snarled. "Well, let me tell you..."

"ENOUGH!!" Robb interrupted. "Do you want to hear this or not?"

The two combatants sank into a sullen silence, shooting each other occasional dark glances. Even though Robb did not have John's height and muscles, there was an intensity about him that made him the automatic leader of the group.