“Is Duck Hunt still a thing?”

“What’s Duck Hunt?” Andy asked.

“Now you’re making me feel old. It was a game that came out with the first Nintendo thirty years ago.”

He gave me a soft pat on the arm. “I was kidding. I know what Duck Hunt is.”

We chatted about the more modern video games the three were into. Much like Andy, both Darnell and Sean were into Red Dead Redemption.

At some point while Andy was rambling on about his latest “heist,” I pushed up the cuff of my shirt and itched at one of the many red welts on my forearm.

“Those look nasty,” Sean said, running one of his hands through his large brown beard.

“Ants got me good.” I was getting ready to tell them the bites’ origin story, when Andy nodded at Darnell and said, “Tell him about yours.”

“Bullet ants,” Darnell said, flashing a swollen left hand. “Hurt so damn bad that I almost cried. Definitely lived up to their name.”

I snorted.

Darnell said, “You don’t seem convinced.”

“As someone who has been shot twice, I find it hard to believe.” Although getting bit on the testicle by an ant was extremely painful, it was still a far cry from a bullet ripping through flesh and bone.

“Well, it was one of the worst pains I’ve ever felt,” said Darnell.

“Have you ever been shot?”

“No.”

“I have an idea.”

Darnell smiled and shook his head. “Does it involve you shooting me?”

“It does.”

Darnell laughed. “I’m going to have to pass, but I could find some bullet ants, and we could have one bite you.”

“I’m also going to pass.”

Andy said, “Stalemate.”

I shook my head. “No, no, no.” I turned and called to Vern. “Hey, Vern, have you been bitten by a bullet ant?”

“I have.”

“Did it hurt as much as getting shot?”

“Hell no.”

I turned back around. “Well, there you have it, kids.”

Everyone laughed.

Sean looked down at his watch and said, “Yo, D, we better go and get that footage from today downloaded for Libby so Roth doesn’t throw another fit.”

Both cameramen left, leaving me with Andy Depree.

I asked, “You prefer hanging out with those two rather than the others?”

“Yeah, I mean, I don’t have much in common with anyone else.”

“Aren’t you an egghead?”

He sighed. “Yeah, but I hate it.”

“What? Teaching?”

“Yes, teaching.”

“Why do it?”

“I’m not qualified to do anything else. And I still have eighty grand in student loans to pay off.”

I gave him a light cuff on the shoulder and said, “You could always give acting another shot.”

“I got that out of my system,” he said with a shake of his head. “But I would be interested in getting behind the camera.” He nodded at where Roth was sitting and chatting with Farah. “I would love his job.”

“Making documentaries?”