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"...Bern?" asked Sergio, "Is that you?"

"Yup. It's me, Sergio. Would you turn on the light?"

"Where's the light switch?"

"By the door."

"...And, like, where's the door?"

"By the light sw-- oh, just feel your way around. You'll get it."

Sergio felt his way around and got it. The lights flipped on, igniting several groans from sleepers with slowly adjusting eyes.

"GEEZ!" exclaimed Renzo, rubbing his eyes. "Can't ya warn us next time?"

A mumble came from Brenton, "Normally, this is when I'd turn off my alarm, walk to my window, and tell the sun to eff off." Following his mumble was a grumble, then a bumble, then a stumble to his feet. "But I'm feeling charitable today."

"Well, since we're awake..." Bern glanced at Renzo and Brenton, as if to confirm that they were both alive, awake, aware, and motivated. You know, like that irritating children's song. "Did you already use the key, Sergio?"

"Uh--" Sergio almost began.

"He did," confirmed Renzo. "But what happened? We home again yet?"

"Uh," repeated Sergio, "Nothing. It, like, didn't work. Or something."

"...Eh?" piped Brenton. "Care to explain this, Bern? Didn't you say something along the lines of 'If my calculations are correct, the only key in this building is a small marshmallow pie, and it will allow one of us to escape Grapefruit Boulevard?'"

"...When did I say that?" asked Bern.

"About thirteen pages ago."

"Oh. Right. Well, uh... I guess my calculations //weren't// correct."

"...Come on. You can't be serious."

"Hey. I started the phrase with an 'if' for a reason!"

"Lemme get this straight," said Renzo. "I came ova here, went through all kinds of crazy talk, had the most insane game of Twista I ever played, got the worst nighta sleep I can think of, and nothin' good happened?"

"Right," aid Bern. "I mean... That's what it seems like."

"Man! I oughta be a millionaire after all this just 'cause of karma! I... I'm gonna write an angry rap about this! And it's gonna be a Top 40 sellah!" Renzo stomped viciously out of the house, slamming the doors behind him.

"...Well, on the bright side, I can keep trying to find whatever the government's trying to cover up." Oh, Brenton. That optimist. "Of course, I'd rather do it with people that know what they're talking about. Like my roommate, Theo." That crazy, nativistic optimist.

"Theo?" asked Sergio, "Who's that?"

"You've never met Theo? You should some time. He's a great guy. I'm sure you'd learn a lot from him."

Bern cleared his throat. "Okay, Brenton. I'm not totally sure you understand, but we're in a bit of a serious situation here. I'd be happy to work together with you, but if you aren't going to cooperate, I'll have to ask you to leave."

"...What, now you don't like me?"

A long, intense pause came to pass, interrupted only briefly by SErgio saying, "Um. I like you."

"Well, fine! Do what you want! But when the closet monsters come for you, with their beady eyes, their sharps claws, and their thirst for blood, don't come crying to me. I tried to warn you, but you wouldn't listen! You'll see what I was talking about."

"...Wait, what was that?" Bern asked, bewildered.

"...Did I just start rambling about some kind of army of closet monsters?"

Bern nodded.

"Oh. Heheh. Whoops."

Bern raised an eyebrow. Well, I guess he did. Toads don't exactly //have// eyebrows, but he raised the part of his face where the eyebrow would be. Do you still call those eyebrows?

"Um... yeah. I'd better just be going now before I further humiliate myself." Brenton had walked to the door. He glanced back at Bern, smiled in the most erratic and nervous manner possible, made a noise that can only be transcribed as a single, long train of 'E's, 'U's, and 'H's, then rushed out the door.

"Dude," said Sergio, "He totally just left."

"So he did," replied Bern. "What now?"

"Wha?"

"I mean, we're in a very strange sort of place. We understand very little of it. What I want to know is: Why?"

Why are these two discussing this right now of all times? One word, baby: pacing.

"...Uh... I dunno."

"You have no idea?"

"Nope. Not a clue."

"...Maybe you aren't the best guy with whom to discuss the philosophy of our predicament..."

"What about those dudes? You know. Renzo and Brenton?"

"Well, Renzo certainly seems a bit..."

"Radical?"

Bern laughed. "that's a good word for him. But he seems like he's got a good heart. Brenton, on the other hand, worries me."

"I dunno, dude," said Sergio. "I think he's groovy. A little... odd, I guess, but there's nothing wrong with being safe, is there? Personally, I don't felly trust the government either. I mean... have you heard they're trying to make marijuana //illegal//?"

"...Ignoring that last statement, you've got a point. Personally, I'm trying to stay calm about everything and be accepting of everyone on the street-- after all, there's nobody else around. It's the other people's opinions about him that worry me. I just think someone might snap a little under the strange conditions we're living in, and label him a liability."

"What makes you say that?"

"Foreshortening, my friend. Foreshortening."

"You mean foreshadowing?"

"...Yes. Foreshadowing."

There was a brief pause.

"Sergio?" asked Bern.

"Yeah, dude?" replied Sergio.

"Would you make me a sandwich?"

"Sure thing, bud."

And that was that. At least, it was the beginning of it all.