Fletcher and Richie have just concluded another game of Madden. Fletcher is not happy, because this time Richie scored three touchdowns. Fletcher still won, convincingly, but that’s more touchdowns than Richie usually scores in a week.

“I’m gonna get a beer,” Fletcher said. “You want one?”

“Hell yes, I want one,” Richie replied. “But how?”

“The fridge holds beer, right?”

“No. The fridge held beer.”

Fletcher grumbled. “No money for beer now?”

“Nope.”

“Then this is a bad situation.”

“Can’t you buy some beer?”

“I already bought beer this week. It was supposed to be your turn.”

“Damn, I need a job.”

“I might be needing one, too. Apparently, the paper is considering closing the Logtown office as part of budget cuts.”

“Can’t you move back to the big city, and work for them there?”

“I don’t think so. The editor doesn’t like me. I accidentally called her a fat cow on an open conference call.”

“So what will we do for beer?”

“I don’t know.”

It was at this point that Simon walked in. He wasn’t carrying a vegetable this time, which was unusual, and he had a plastic grocery bag in his hand. His eyes looked glazed, and both Fletcher and Richie noticed he was acting strangely. More strangely than usual.

“Simon, what’s wrong?”

Simon mumbled something that neither of them could distinguish.

“Simon, what’s in the bag?”

Simon said something that sounded like “Mmmm,” and tossed the bag at Richie. He missed.

Richie picked up the bag and set it on the sofa between himself and Fletcher. Fletcher opened the bag so that both of them could look inside. They looked in, furrowed their brows, and looked at each other with puzzled looks. Then they looked back at Simon.