The pre-coffee ontological debate (John, Rodney; ridiculous)
This is just silly. I'm not sure if it qualifies as ontology per se, but it sounds impressive, doesn't it? :>
Instigated by two people who know exactly who they are.
The Pre-Coffee Ontological Debate
"You'd make a great scone," John says after he finishes swallowing a mouthful of coffee. "You know, with raspberry jam and lemon curd..."
"Have you had high tea with the Queen, Sheppard?" Rodney saws at his piece of yak-thing-bacon. "And there's no way you'd put lemon curd on me. I'm allergic."
"You wouldn't be allergic if you were a scone."
"I totally would!" Rodney viciously chews his yak bacon, swallows, and chases it with a gulp of coffee. "It's a well-known fact that, whenever someone's transformed, while their shape changes, inherent genetic and physical infirmities remain. Because my citrus allergy is an inherent physical trait, even in my scone form I'd be allergic to lemon curd." He pauses. "What the hell kind of superpower is that, transforming into a breakfast pastry? And why the hell are we talking about this anyway?"
"You're assuming I'm talking about transformation." It's almost criminally easy, really, stringing a pre-coffee Rodney along on these kinds of conversations.
"So... you're saying I was born as a scone."
"Yup."
"Ha!" Rodney bounces triumphantly. "Scones aren't born, they're mixed. From flour."
"If you're not born," John says, "you can't have allergies. Therefore, if you were mixed into being as a scone, you can't be allergic to lemon curd."
"But if I was... was mixed or whatever, I wouldn't be Rodney McKay."
John leans across the table, dips his index finger in Rodney's pudding, leans back again. Watches Rodney watch him as he licks the pudding off.
"Yeah," John agrees, giving his finger a final lick, "but you'd taste great with lemon curd."
And: CRUMPETS
Instigated by two people who know exactly who they are.
The Pre-Coffee Ontological Debate
"You'd make a great scone," John says after he finishes swallowing a mouthful of coffee. "You know, with raspberry jam and lemon curd..."
"Have you had high tea with the Queen, Sheppard?" Rodney saws at his piece of yak-thing-bacon. "And there's no way you'd put lemon curd on me. I'm allergic."
"You wouldn't be allergic if you were a scone."
"I totally would!" Rodney viciously chews his yak bacon, swallows, and chases it with a gulp of coffee. "It's a well-known fact that, whenever someone's transformed, while their shape changes, inherent genetic and physical infirmities remain. Because my citrus allergy is an inherent physical trait, even in my scone form I'd be allergic to lemon curd." He pauses. "What the hell kind of superpower is that, transforming into a breakfast pastry? And why the hell are we talking about this anyway?"
"You're assuming I'm talking about transformation." It's almost criminally easy, really, stringing a pre-coffee Rodney along on these kinds of conversations.
"So... you're saying I was born as a scone."
"Yup."
"Ha!" Rodney bounces triumphantly. "Scones aren't born, they're mixed. From flour."
"If you're not born," John says, "you can't have allergies. Therefore, if you were mixed into being as a scone, you can't be allergic to lemon curd."
"But if I was... was mixed or whatever, I wouldn't be Rodney McKay."
John leans across the table, dips his index finger in Rodney's pudding, leans back again. Watches Rodney watch him as he licks the pudding off.
"Yeah," John agrees, giving his finger a final lick, "but you'd taste great with lemon curd."
And: CRUMPETS