My name is Ola. I'm 10.

My name is Ola. I'm 10.

As a cat though, I'm pushing 60, but I'm spry for my age. I can still leap onto furniture, and hear a can opener lifting the lid off of tuna. "Ola!" I hear my keepers calling.

So I bound off the couch, through the table, trip a little human, and come for my food.

Then, the water tribe jumps out of nowhere and gives a speech I don't understand. It sounds something like : 'go get your own water.'

Then the fire nation attacked. It battled the inconceivable words with 'Lol! Ecks dee!"

Then Blava the Great God of Boredom came lumbering along and lay down on all of them, smothering them with his sheer weariness. And yea, they were all smitten. And Blava saw that

that each of them had longed for the moment in their own way. They wanted to be free from the panic of their concerns and released into the kind of oblivion that was uniquely his.

He knew oblivion like the back of his hand. He couldn't remember the last time he felt connected to reality, but they made sure he would stay in a world of confusion, where truth

was the glue that kept it all together. Once the truth gave way his living could happen and he would be the Truth giving it the meaning cohesion demanded. Breakfast was the first

meal, and the last, for it had been laced with arsenic. It tastes delicious.