"You're violet! He's sorry, I'm sorry, you're violet!" I squealed. "We've just never seen a violet squirrel before."
"Or a talking one," Del said. 
"I'm your first talking violet squirrel?" The rodent seemed genuinely excited. "You really are new at this, aren't you? When they told me to come find you, I didn't realize just how fresh you were! How exciting!"
"New at what?" Del asked. I could have flung something at him if I had anything on hand. New at needlepoint, dear friend? Cross-country skiing? What the hell was wrong with him?
"The transition from caloric intake to unconventional methods of energy transference and physical manipulation of the world entire." The squirrel sounded like it had just explained rocket science to someone on the moon. It must have been able to read something in our blank expressions because if mine looked anything like Del's, we were about as blank as a brand-new sketchbook. "Magic, in layman's terms."
Well, shit. I'd known for years magic was real, even if I wasn't supposed to say it out loud. And not obvious bullshit like Santa or the Easter Bunny or even the fucking Tooth Fairy – those were clearly all made up to sell shit and make parents look pitiful by comparison. A magical man that flies around the world in seventeen hours delivering custom-requested presents to an ever-increasing number of who-gives-a-shit-who-you-believe-in children from across the globe? Yeah, clearly invented by someone disgruntled with his relationship with his parents who needed to cook up someone to ruin people's lives every December.
But magic itself – deep-seated magic that could change the world around – was real, and I'd known it for years. 
"I knew it!" Del cheered. Of course, my Dungeons & Dragons-addicted chum was in the magic is real camp. He'd never doubted it for a second. "I fucking knew it!"
"Yes, well done, good for you," the squirrel said. "It's not your fault for missing it until now. Humans are by far the worst species to ever exist. Magic had to go by the wayside to make room for..."
The squirrel reached into its satchel and pulled out a short scroll of paper. It read it and shook its head.
"Profits. Gods, what is it with you people and money?" it asked.
"Don't look at us," I said. "Not enough money to buy dinner!"
"I was hoping you were hungry!" The squirrel clapped its paws and reached back into its satchel. "I brought samosas!"
It handed each of us a huge, fist-sized piping hot samosa – a giant, deep-fried spicy potato dumpling that tasted like actual heaven, especially with mango chutney – and grinned as we ate the shit out of them.
"Thanks," I said, fanning my mouth in an unsuccessful attempt to soothe the fresh hot potato burns. "I didn't realize how hungry I was."
"Yes, well, you haven't been taking care of yourself, Mackenzie," the squirrel said.
I froze. Up until this point, I'd been going along for the ride. Sure, there was a violet squirrel right in front of me. I'd shot fireballs out of my hands, and now I had eaten a samosa the size of my hand out of a bag that didn't look big enough to hold it. All of that was cool, all of that I could roll with.
But the fucker knew my name. What the hell.
"Okay," I said, swallowing the last chunk of samosa. "Best samosa I ever had, by the way."
"I make my own garam masala," said the squirrel. "Whole spices, roasted and ground by yours truly."
"Damn," Del said. "I'll need that recipe."