So one day Krishnamurthi asks Pasternak if

So one day Krishnamurthi asks Pasternak if they might eventually have one or two of those oranges along with their tea, and maybe some bread. The purple storm mirror

had shattered a long time ago.

So long ago in fact that I forgot. A second is such a long time! Maybe I jotted it down on one of these bits of paper in my pocket. Ah, here: It says this pants inspected by #3245.

I must leave this instant to seek revenge on #3245 for allowing the shoddy workmanship on these pants to go un-rejected, leaving me with an embarrassing split in my seat.

The pant threads just couldn't take it anymore! They'd been holding on with every bit of strength, but finally they started to unravel. Revelations of lacy red underthings kept

it together. The lingerie had also helped sew up the pants, but they became too unsexy. They died from embarrassment.

But the Water Tribe saved the day with a flood down my float, putting out the fire.

It was very efficient. The Water Tribe was notoriously strict about recycling. They wouldnt allow mixing the recycling and trash.

In the end, the Water Tribe found a new home world, several. All that they had lost and all that they had saved were finally written off as the cost of doing business in The Core.