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said. “All you do is talk about it. Seize the day.”
    â€œI thought that movie was stupid,” Barry said.
    â€œYou’re stupid,” Vinnie said.
    â€œI think it’s fair to say you’re both equally stupid,” Melanie said. “And I don’t know what movie you’re talking about. Or care.”
    â€œYou’re against movies? Why, the film stock is ruining the ozone layer?” Barry asked her.
    â€œI read for entertainment,” Melanie said.
    â€œPeople write books on hemp?” Vinnie asked.
    â€œNo.” Melanie turned away to stare at the wall next to her head. “When I was young I was stupid. I ate meat and drank from plastic water bottles. I also bought books.”
    â€œTree killer,” Barry said.
    She ignored the comment. “I still have them. They’ll never go into a landfill, though. So I read them over and over instead of rotting my brain with television and movies.”
    â€œDid you get them as a kid?” Barry asked. “If you did, isn’t reading Dr. Seuss over and over getting boring?” He laughed at his own joke but no one else did. As usual.
    â€œI read Dumas and Kipling, Brontë and London,” Melanie said.
    â€œSomeday I’d like to visit London and see what their microbrews taste like,” Vinnie said.
    â€œI thought you hated foreign beer,” Barry said. He held up the still unopened Corona in his hand. “Over there everything would be a foreign beer. And you’d be a foreigner so you couldn’t drink any of the beer.”
    â€œYou make no sense,” Vinnie said slowly, but Barry could see he was trying to work it out in his head. “No sense,” he finally said after a pause. “Even if I had a bottle opener, I’m not going to drink that foreign beer in your hand.”
    â€œThis one is mine,” Barry said and covered the bottle with his other hand. “Get your own. And while you’re up there getting some fruity beer brewed in someone’s bathtub, make sure you bring down a bottle opener. I’m getting thirsty eating these potato chips.”
    â€œGive me a bag,” Vinnie said. “Did you find Doritos? Cool Ranch?”
    Barry shook his head. “I’m not sharing. You won’t get a bottle opener.”
    â€œI’m not going upstairs. There are ghouls waiting to bite me,” Vinnie said.
    â€œYou mean zombies.” Barry stuffed potato chips in his mouth. Now he wished he’d gotten a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos. That sounded really good right now, too. And he was never going back up those stairs to certain death again, he decided.
    â€œI’m not going to kill a zombie,” Melanie said.
    â€œOf course not. Why would the vegan pacifist try to save herself? I bet you’re miserable inside,” Barry said. Vinnie acted shocked, but Barry knew he was thinking the same thing. Barry had no delusional thoughts about procreating the human race with this skinny bitch like Vinnie did. He was going to say whatever was on his mind. “All of those plants and hemp have screwed up your organs. I bet I live longer than you and I eat cold pizza for breakfast twice a week. I only eat food that had a face whenever possible. You know what lettuce is? Food my food eats.”
    â€œYou’re an asshole,” Melanie said.
    Barry stabbed a potato chip–crusted finger in her direction. “Vegans don’t curse.”
    â€œYes, they do. I do. You’re thinking of a Straight Edge person.”
    â€œNever heard of it. But it sounds ridiculous,” Barry said. He put more chips into his mouth and leaned back against the wall.
    ----
----
    Otto hadn’t moved in hours. Or it might’ve been minutes. Barry was so bored it felt like they’d been down in the basement for days. And he had to pee really, really bad.
    Back to Otto.
    The guy was probably in his midtwenties. He looked foreign, maybe Australian. He