Birds squawk. High pitched tones. Are they singing or discussing the topics of the day? He asks.

Probably talking about where all the worms are, Mike responds.

Probably, John says.

You’d think they’d stop. They know they’re waking people up, Mike tells him. Damn dinosaurs.

What?

They’re the last of the dinosaurs, Mike sits up and lights a cigarette.  Once they’re gone, poof. That’ll be it, Mike’s hands move in opposite directions.

The last of them? Huh,  John says.

Actually,  it’ll be the end of everything. They’ll be gone. We’ll be gone. Every living thing gone. Mike takes another drag.

How you figure?

There’s only so much they can take. So much we can take. Mike spits on the concrete floor. They’re getting a good beating right now,  he says. The air quality, lack of food, global warming.

You believe that? John asks.

No reason not, too. I’ll take science over idiocy any day. These guys go to school and study this shit. They know. And we’re not listening. Mike starts to get dressed. Others are still asleep. He buttons his shirt and tucks it into his dirty jeans.

You think we’ll be dead soon? John asks.

Afraid so.

Then what?

That’s up to you.