“Alright, whats the trouble Calvin? I was trying to fix supper.” Dr. Morgain asked.
“It’s the pelts!” He said urgently. “They’re all dead! Every last goddam one of them! Even the ones in the o2 tanks!”
“What happened?” the doctor asked calmly.
“Looks like that boy of yours was in here with that damn boom box again, he knows how they react to sound, especially this time of year.” Calvin said furiously.
The lights flickered. Then they went out.
“What the fuck?” Calvin blurted. “Why isn’t the generator kicking in?”
The doctor produced a book light and an extra pack of gummys from his breast pocket. “I like the red ones the best,” he said as he hand picked his favorites from the packet. “Me too,” mumbled Calvin. “But right now we need to fix these lights so I can clear the carcasses.”