The Candy Bar was quiet in the late afternoon, the kind of quiet that made every clink of glass sound louder than usual. Sunlight filtered through the windows and stretched across the bar like it had all the time in the world. Charmy sat on a stool with one elbow on the counter, spinning a small red frisbee on the tip of his finger while Blue leaned beside him, calmly sipping a drink and scrolling through his phone with the confidence of someone who had just learned something questionable on the internet.

Charmy finally broke the silence.

“Hey Blue,” he said casually. “You want to go play frisbee out in the meadow?”

Blue did not look up right away. He finished reading something on his screen, nodded slowly to himself, then slipped the phone into his pocket. He turned on the stool and looked Charmy square in the eye.

“I will,” Blue said thoughtfully. “But only after you admit that you believe the Earth is flat.”

Charmy stopped spinning the frisbee.

“What.”

Blue leaned back like a professor about to present a lecture.

“You know,” Blue said calmly. “The flat Earth theory. The world is flat, and the oceans are surrounded by a giant ice wall that keeps the water from spilling off the edge.”

Charmy stared at him for several seconds. The frisbee slipped from his finger and clattered softly on the bar.

“You and your STUPID flat Earth nonsense!” Charmy snapped.

Blue’s eyes widened with theatrical offense. He sat up straight and crossed his arms.

“It is NOT nonsense,” Blue said firmly.

Charmy rubbed his temples. He let out a long breath and stared at the ceiling for a moment, clearly reconsidering his tone. After a few seconds he looked back at Blue with a softer expression.

“I am sorry,” Charmy said gently. “I should not be so insensitive.”

Blue nodded with satisfaction, clearly expecting a full surrender.

Charmy leaned closer.

“I meant to say your disillusional flat Earth theories.”

Blue blinked once. Then he smiled smugly.

“Apology accepted.”

Charmy stared at him again, trying to determine if this was a joke. Blue seemed perfectly content with the exchange, tapping his fingers on the bar like the matter had been resolved.

Charmy slowly picked up the frisbee again.

“Blue,” he said carefully, “we are not debating the shape of the planet. I just want to throw this thing around for fifteen minutes.”

Blue nodded patiently. “And I want intellectual honesty.”

“You want validation,” Charmy corrected.

Blue shrugged. “Same thing.”

Charmy spun the frisbee again, though now the motion was less playful and more irritated.

“So you will not play unless I pretend the world is shaped like a pizza.”

Blue shook his head. “It is not pretending if it is true.”

Charmy laughed once, a sharp sound.

“Blue, there are satellites. There are photos from space.”

Blue raised a finger confidently.

“Those are government balloons.”

Charmy blinked.

“Government balloons.”

Blue nodded. “Floating cameras.”

Charmy leaned back on his stool, staring at the ceiling again as though hoping gravity might deliver a better conversation partner.

“You learned this online, did you not.”

Blue brightened. “Several very convincing videos.”

Charmy pointed the frisbee at him. “Videos made by people in their basements.”

Blue tilted his head. “Independent researchers.”

Charmy sighed.

Outside the window, the meadow waited peacefully, perfect for a casual game of frisbee. The breeze stirred the grass, almost mockingly.

Charmy looked back at Blue.

“Fine,” Charmy said. “Explain the ice wall.”

Blue leaned forward eagerly, clearly delighted to have an audience.

“The ice wall surrounds the entire Earth,” Blue said with enthusiasm. “It keeps the oceans contained so they do not spill into space.”

Charmy frowned. “Who built the wall.”

Blue waved his hand dismissively. “Nobody built it. It is natural.”

Charmy nodded slowly.

“So the entire planet is a giant plate of water surrounded by a frozen fence.”

Blue smiled proudly. “Exactly.”

Charmy drummed his fingers on the counter.

“And ships never fall off the edge.”

“Because the wall stops them,” Blue said.

Charmy paused.

“Do planes ever fly over the wall.”

Blue shook his head. “They are not allowed.”

“Not allowed by who.”

Blue hesitated for half a second.

“Authorities.”

Charmy stared at him again, this time with the kind of quiet fascination normally reserved for strange animals in documentaries.

“You are making this very difficult,” Charmy said.

Blue folded his arms again. “Truth is rarely convenient.”

Charmy slid off the stool and picked up the frisbee.

“You know what,” Charmy said. “Forget it. I will play by myself.”

Blue watched him walk toward the door.

“You could still admit it,” Blue called out. “Then we could play together.”

Charmy stopped at the door and turned.

“Blue.”

“Yes.”

“The Earth is round.”

Blue shook his head with gentle pity.

“You have been misled.”

Charmy opened the door, the sunlight pouring in around him. The meadow looked even more inviting now.

“I would rather throw a frisbee alone on a round planet,” Charmy said, “than argue about a square one.”

Blue leaned back on his stool, perfectly calm.

“It is not square,” Blue said. “It is flat.”

Charmy closed his eyes briefly and stepped outside.

Behind him, Blue returned to his phone, probably discovering three new theories before Charmy even reached the grass. The world outside continued spinning exactly as it always had, despite the debates happening inside the quiet little bar. Somewhere between curiosity and stubbornness, the conversation lingered like so many modern arguments that begin online and drift into real life. In an era fueled by #FlatEarthDebate, #InternetTheories, #FrisbeeTime, #ComedyMoments, and #ViralConversations, even a simple game of frisbee could turn into a philosophical standoff between friends.

And somewhere in the meadow, Charmy wound up his arm and threw the frisbee as hard as he could, watching it arc beautifully through the air over a planet that remained stubbornly, undeniably round.