Totodile

You can't be thankful for givens?

And for that you should be thankful.

D-, see me

I'd been working myself up over how to deal with your Frogadier all week. :D;

Sounds like witchcraft.

I'm just surprised you got anything out of it at all.

Apparently.

Do you remember when I had that pack of firecrackers wrapped in thin red fairy paper, and we broke them open and poured the slick, silvery powder into the ancient keyhole on the shed door? I did the breaking, you did the pouring; that was decided because you said you knew the "trick" to it, even though it didn't seem like much of a trick, it just seemed like you were moving more slowly than I would, but your fingers seemed longer than mine, and more purposeful, and for a moment I became aware of how pale I was and how undefined and soft my legs were compared to yours. But when that last firecracker- unbroken, you made sure of that!- was wedged inside of the keyhole, and you lit it, and we ran away from the futzle and the sputter... I was so glad, I was secretly so glad that you were there.

Do you remember, you and I in the courtyard in front of my grandfather's house? You had discovered some moss that had mushroomed up between the cracks of the red-rust hexagonal paving stones, and you were kicking at it, balling off little green armadillos while I looked for something flat and sharp and wide so I could bulldoze a section properly. "Do you know a game?" you asked, and I panicked for a moment until I saw your face all calm and relaxed, and I realised it was an invitation and not an accusation. The walnuts on the walnut tree were still green, and when I smashed one on the ground it smelled all pistachioed and lime dusty. "I know a game: two points if you catch it, one if it rolls into the gutter, and negative 100 if it breaks when it lands!" And you threw it high and up onto the roof of the garage, where it bounced and bouncled on the curved terracotta roofing tiles. I misjudged, I thought it would fall straight, but it caught the lip of the drain and bobble-looped right into your hand, and you cheered! And I cheered slightly later, not really knowing what part I was supposed to play, but that felt right. But then you smashed it on the ground, and the yellow, soft pre-nut inside left a little wet spot on the concrete. "Minus one hundred!" you shouted. You said it, not me, and we both liked that game better anyway.

Purple monkey dishwasher.

Meaningful discourse is so old hat anyway.

Like, uh... okay, I take it back. We do just talk complete bollocks.

Nonsense, we're always discussing incredibly substantial things.

I forgot what we were even originally arguing about.

Well, in any case, you can't simply decide what is an exception and what isn't just as you please.

But that means that there are exceptions to the rule that every rule has exceptions. What if this is one such case?

You can't just support all your propositions by excluding anything that contradicts them!

He loves Fiona! And Donkey, deep down in his oniony heart.

With the love of mighty Shrek, all things are possible.

It was more a blessing from Lord Shrek than anything I did.