It is a quiet day. All is going well. The birds are singing. Two someones are sitting at a kitchen table. One is enjoying a bowl of yogurt. Then the other speaks.
"Ryou?"
"Yes, Marik?"
"Are you eating yogurt?"
"Yes, Marik, I am."
"Oh."
No more words are spoken. Ryou doesn't know what to think. Marik speaks again.
"I have something I need to tell you."
"Oh, really? What might that be?"
The one called Marik takes a deep breath.
"I love you almost as much as I love yogurt."
There is silence. Ryou manages to choke out a word.
"P-pardon?"
"Yogurt. It's soft, and creamy, and sweet. Just like you."
"I— what?"
"Will you be my yogurt, Ryou?"
"I— I— uh—"
Marik leaves Ryou, wide eyed and shocked, to ponder this question.
In the next room, Malik turns to Bakura and says:
"How long until we tell him Marik hates yogurt?"