Standard disclaimers are all the same.

Thanks to the members of the Jell-o pit, the boys have a great time there!

My personal debate: which flavor of jello is better? It is a debate Hal and Brett haven 't gone into yet.

The Ultimate Debate
by Alfonsina

"Diets suck." I mumbled.

"You don't look like you need to lose any weight," Brett said. "Hal, why are you on a diet? Can't be a new year's type resolution can it?"

I guess I wasn't as quiet or as alone in the break room as I thought. Actually, it was my birthday resolution, from last year. I had planned to lose ten pounds this year, not too large a number to be difficult to manage, not too small as to be insignificant.

I blew out a sigh of disgust, "I've got unsightly bulges that will show through my sweaters now that cooler weather is here."

"So that's why you've been getting into the whole Indian Summer thing?"

"Yeah."

In the perfect weather, around 70 or so, I could wear loose button downs that didn't cling. I didn't need long johns under my pants that made them cling funny and I could disguise my figure flaws.

"You know, that Twinkie in your hand isn't really helping your cause," he said.

Jerk, just because it was true.

I put the Twinkie and my almost empty Sprite can in the trash; this wasn't helping my mood at all. I was about to head to my desk when I was stopped by Brett. He opened a small beige box, the one he keeps his contraband in, and asked, "Which is better strawberry or cinnamon?"

I don't care because it isn't mine and I have one month until my freaking birthday goal goes met or unmet.

"Excuse me?"

"Pop-tart flavor. Strawberry or cinnamon?"

"Chocolate."

"I don't have a chocolate one," he said gazing into his box. "Do you have one you'd sell me for a buck?"

"Nope. Got to get back to work."

I signed back onto my computer getting ready for another long session monitoring a lot of nothing at the low end accounts. I had already done my monitor time this month, but somebody was a tattletale and told Ranger I'd texted on a surveillance shift so now I had to check my electronic devices at the door for the next two weeks. What the hell was this, high school? One of these days Brett was going to realize just how lucky he is that he's still able to breath without one of those machines.

I had an IM from George: Hey, any problems on the new search algorithm?

Nope.

Why the hell does George bother me anyway?

Heard you got busted to monitor duty.

It wasn't my fault. Somebody texted me and I was polite and responded.

Silence. So now I'd probably pissed off George and I was going to stare at empty jewelry and electronics stores all night. I decided that I'd make my list of things I needed to do to shed the freaking ten pounds.

Why the hell don't I ever plan for things? Why do I feel like crap when I don't make my goals? Oh yeah, planning would help with that. So would actual goals, as a matter of fact.

OK, so I might do better on this particular session if I got the HoHo out of my mouth. If I wasn't careful, I was going to look like a trussed turkey and need to lose twenty pounds instead of the original ten.

"Bored yet?" Brett asked.

It's been a freaking five minutes since the last time I saw him. No way I can admit to boredom now.

"Nope. Just making sure things are quiet on all the job sites."

"Still, it's boring," he said cracking his gum in my ear. Damn gum probably wasn't even sugarless.

"Did you want something, Brett?"

"Yeah, I can't make the new program work."

"Why didn't you just ask that?"

"Because, Hal, you've been in a really crappy mood since we did surveillance together and I don't want to add fuel to the fire."

I closed my eyes and dropped my chin to my chest. I raised my head and looked at him like he was an idiot. Actually he is an idiot, he was hired because he's strong and a good shot, plus he takes orders really well. Unfortunately he doesn't always have an off button, he's been known to follow Stephanie around for two solid days without sleeping or eating , not realizing he only had to do an eight hour shift. He'd been exploited a couple of times for that before Ranger found out; someone, who shall remain nameless, got the joy of scrubbing the gym floor with a toothbrush for two days after that – it was worth it.

"So what happens when you try to run it?"

"Nothing. I can't get it to even load on my computer."

"Didn't you follow the e-mail instructions on how to install it?"

"What instructions?"

Perfect. That was just what I wanted to hear.

"How many searches are you backed up?"

"Twenty-five. No, I think it's twenty-four," he said giving me a very pained look. "No, definitely it is twenty-five."

"Do you want me to install it for you and set it up with your passwords or do you want me to contact George so he can walk you through it?"

"Who's George?"

One day, Brett was going to have to rely on himself and not the kindness of strangers and he was going to have to learn to use e-mail as well as the other programs on the computer.

"George is the person we're supposed to go through instead of calling Silvio when there's a computer issue."

"I found a chocolate Pop-tart," he said.

"And?"

"I'll give it to you if you install the program for me. I'll watch the monitors until you get done."

"Show me the Pop-tart first."

This right here, right now, is why I never lose any weight. I think Brett keeps his desk salted with contraband as well as the break room. I think that this is part of the weight loss issue.

He pulled it from his back pocket. Now it was crumpled and broken, but it was still chocolate and part of my weakness. Damn it.

"Fine," I said as I took it from his hand. "I'll even send George an e-mail once it's installed."

"Cool. Hey, which is better Ding-Dongs or HoHos?"

The great debate with Brett is never going to end, is it?

A/N: Hal has been and will continue to be long suffering ... and we've only just begun. Reviews always seem to soothe Hal's ego and prevent him from serious bodily injury on Brett.

Thanks as always for reading and reviewing. Alf