The cramped office break room scene portrays John, an overworked accountant, sitting at the small table with a sandwich he so eagerly anticipated all day. Just as he is about to take his first bite, in walks Ivan, the self-proclaimed "Curious Genius" of the office with a banana in one hand and a notepad in the other."Oh hi there, John", said Ivan as he slid into the seat opposite him.Inside, John groaned. "Hey, Ivan.""Mind if I ask you something?" Already, Ivan was flipping open his notepad."You are going to anyway," John replied."Sweet!" Ivan sprung up happily. "Why is it called a sandwich? I mean, it's not made of sand. Were they really lazy naming it?"He was staring at John with half a sandwich poised at his mouth. "It's named after the Earl of Sandwich."Ivan scribbled furiously in his notepad. "Ah, okay. But who names a person after food? Was there a Count Croissant or a Baron Burrito?"John pinches the bridge of his nose. "Ivan, that's not how--","Also," he adds, leaning forward, "why do we park in driveways and drive on parkways? Seriously, doesn't that seem like... backwards to you?"He puts his sandwich down and loses his appetite in the process: "Ivan, language evolves. Words are not made sense to all at times.""Oh, like 'flammable' and 'inflammable' mean the same thing? But 'valuable' and 'invaluable' vary? Who decides that junk? Is there a word committee?""Sure," John deadpanned. "They have a secret Word Illuminati that meets under a dictionary factory."Ivan's eyes widened. "Really? That would explain so much, though! Do you think they have meetings about silent letters too? Like, why is there a 'K' in 'knife'? Did someone just think, 'You know what this word needs? A useless letter!'?"John sighed. "It's from Old English. It's historical.""Right," said Ivan, nodding vigorously; "but if it's a heritage, then why isn't it repaired now? We have repaired other things like...electricity and-wait, did people use candles for EVERYTHING before light bulbs? What about sneezing? Did they sit in the dark?"John mutters, 'Perhaps.' It imagines he might even be walking into the black void himself.Speaking of sneezes blitzkrieg: "Why's it always bless you? For all I know, maybe I don't want blessing; maybe I want something much unlike a cheeseburger," questions Ivan."Fine, Ivan," snaps John. "Next time you sneeze, I yell Cheeseburger! - let's see if that comes up."Ivan seems to contemplate this for a while. "Which is fair. But! Why cheeseburger? Tacos are much better. Who doesn't love tacos, I'd say? Do you think aliens have tacos? Or is there something different in their vocabulary resembling...space burritos? What about aliens sneezing?"John rises from his seat and clutches the duffel holding his sandwich. "Ivan, I'm out.""Oh, hold on! One last question!" Ivan calls after him. "If you're on the way to catch a bus and you get there late to find it's just barreled past the stop, is it really the bus's fault for being an early bird, or is it your fault for being late?"John spins around. "It's your fault, Ivan. Everything's your fault."Ivan beams from ear to ear and is utterly undisturbed. "Thanks, John! You always clear things up for me."As John storms hotly out of the break room spitting fire about looking for another job, Ivan takes another bite from his banana and eagerly scribbles down his next note: Ask John tomorrow why bananas are curved.The end