fandomhigh | Debating, Friday November 2

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Debating, Friday November 2

Chuck glared at the kids sitting in front of him.

“Why aren’t you supporting our country? You’re all sitting around enjoying public education, ignoring everything outside of your middle-class bubbles, when you could be sneaking off to be underage recruits for the army.” He gave them all a derisive look. “You kids and thinking all of you should have public education. Goods across the board like that? That’s not democratic. That’s communist. You, kids, are communist.”

Chuck went to the board and wrote “False dilemma.”

“Something we’ve been working on in class this semester is simplification. You need to simplify your arguments down to the bare bones, and not let any silly little facts get in your way. Narrow down exactly what is wrong with the opposing side, be it the argument, the result of their argument, or the person themself. Figure out just how awful it could be, and stick to it. Above all else, do not let them convince you that there are shades of gray. That’s where the dilemma comes into play. There’s no way of compromising here, no way you’ll let them off the hook with any of their flaws. There is only their horrible option, or your straight-up, excellent one.”

He clapped his hands. “Pair up, and get to it!”

[OOC: ~~Just a minute...~~ We now return you to your regularly scheduled deathmatches.]

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See life in black and white, ignore reason and subtlety.

Jeff was cowering.

Again.

Naminé leaned over and smiled, hopefully reassuringly, to the weird boy who always seemed to shout things about breasts. "Shall we pair up for this?" she asked. "Or I suppose it isn't a pair. Two and a half, possibly."

She nodded to the chicken who was peeping on her desk.

Jeff backed away like he'd just been hit by lightening. "You're a chicken!" he yelled, completely failing to actually notice Chickentine except on some subconscious level. "I mean, not physically or anything. I mean. You look very human for a chicken! Not that you're one, I'm just saying, on a fowl scale from 1 to 10, you look the most..." he paused, grasping for something, "...regular!"

Naminé blinked. Perhaps this had been a bad idea?

"I'm not a chicken," she said carefully. "Valentine is. We were just talking and suddenly, he was a chicken. Apparently, it happens here a lot?"

Chickentine sniffed curiously in Jeff's direction and fluffed himself up. This boy seemed very strange. Chickentine approved.

"Oh! Right!" Jeff laughed nervously. "Of course! I must've mistaken the both of you for each other!" Pause. Scramble. "Not to say you look like a chicken! You don't look like a chicken at all! 'Cos, obviously, if you were the chicken, there'd be a lot more fluff!"

He looked really earnest about it.

"Yes," Naminé agreed. "I'm not very ... fluffy ... at all."

She tried to smile cheerfully and not make any sudden movements.

And she tried desperately to think of something to say that wouldn't make things even worse.

"Have you ever been a chicken?"

... So much for that.

Jeff's heart sank all the way down to his shoes.

He groped for something sane to say. Something natural. Something rational.

"I'm really more of an otter," he replied.

"Really?" she said with a bright, forced smile. "That sounds fascinating. They have such cute hands."

"I'm sorry," Jeff choked, "I appear to have gotten stuck on otters. Which is a really awful place to get stuck in if you haven't got the flippers."

"I can imagine," Naminé said, nodding quickly. "Getting stuck without any flippers. On otters, no less. However would you ... find your way ... home again?"

No. She had no idea what they were talking about. She sort of hoped he did.

"Well," Jeff said, and he knew the moment he said it it was a 'well' of extreme danger. However, extreme danger, as always, approached him much like a truck would a young deer. Incapable of looking away, he doggedly continued the sentence, "I imagine my mother would leap into the ocean, scoop me up in her jaws and carry me back to the pride."

There was silence for the next several seconds. Except for the peeping of a Chickentine.

"How ... lucky for you!" she managed. "That you have a mother with ... such ... powerful jaws! I haven't got one. A mother, I mean. Because of not being real and all."

It was astonishing how quickly this was going downhill, considering that she hadn't realized that it could get any worse.

Re: FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT!

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Re: FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT!

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Re: FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT!

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Re: FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT!

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Re: FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT!

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Re: FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT!

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Re: FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT!

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Re: FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT!

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Re: FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT!

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Re: FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT!

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Annette wasn't too sure she felt up for fighting today.

Why oh why wasn't there anybody else without a partner? Meg just sat down in front of Annette and waited for her to say something.

Oh dear sweet mother Mary. Annette looked across at Meg and waited for her to say something.

"There was nobody else left." she said, feeling the need to explain herself.

"Whatever," Annette said, rolling her eyes.

"Let's just get this thing over with." she said. "You go first."

"You sat down by me, you go first." Annette said, frowning.

"You really want me to go first?" Meg asked with her eyebrow raised. She looked at the board and remembered the assignment. Just black and white, bare bones argument. Fine. She could do that.

"You're a selfish person." she said, putting it as nicely as possible.

Annette should have known this wasn't going to be easy. Not with Meg.

"You butt in where you don't belong."

"You're saying I shouldn't care about my friend's feelings?" Meg asked. "Is that the way you treat your friends? Nice."

"Of course you should care, but where does it say that you get to be a bitch to me because of it?" Annette was seriously tired of this whole freaking mess.

"Sooo I should just pretend that everything is just fine and dandy?" she said. "And I wasn't acting like a...you know. I'm doing my best to just ignore you."