“That’s the last one,” Penelope said, “and it’s warm.”
“I know. I was gonna wait until winter: leave it outside, let it get cold, then drink it, but…”
“Can’t wait that long?”
“Might not be alive come winter.”
“True. But do you really want the last beer you ever drink to be warm?”
He shook his head. “Somebody out there’s still making beer. Maybe there’s a fortified distillery somewhere.”
“With solar-powered refrigerators?”
“Yes. And maybe they make pizza too. If you can make beer, you can make bread. Tomatoes aren’t hard to grow.”
“You’d need cows, for the cheese.”
“True.”
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