Mr Eager Beaver stopped scurrying, turned back and sidled up to us.
Grinning,
"Hey, why are you guys walking in packets?"

[Me: So what are you, soya bean? (Surprise me.)
her: (turned hiphopitty, absence of blingbling noted) We are Yeo's! Yos!

I had to smile.]

Back to Beaver. Sadly, that's because we are not exactly raising our hands and feet, and fighting all over one another just to be packed in the same carton as you. That projected in a thought-bubble above my eye-rolling head, I summoned an ounce of strength from all the cells in my body and mustered a cross-between-a-smile-and-a-frown for him.

Maybe Mr Eager Beaver should build his lodge somewhere else. And talk to the otters or something, leaves, twigs, river ripples...they're your true friends. Don't forget the algae and plankton, which can carry on a great conversation. Unbelievably true. Build beautiful friendship with them before Mr Croc do us a favour and eat you up.

World peace. Twist.

Boy, I'm such a meanie.
It must be the haze.

Why are you late?
Ay, it's because of the haze.

Why didn't you do your essay?
Oh, it's the haze.

Why ___(fill in the blank)___?
The Haze.

I've found the perfect excuse.
I wish.