And I didn’t want the awkward situation of one of the police officers knowing what song I was whistling, so the song needed to be obscure. When I finally settled for the song I’d whistle until I was released, about an hour had passed. The police lasted eight hours before one of them started cracking. Here, in the present situation, that wasn’t the case.

It took only two hours of whistling the Rainbow Monkey theme song, off key, for the Fire Nation guards to start screaming at me to make it stop. They were too smart to fall for the “open the cell door and shut the bastard up” bit, and considering how badly injured I was in the capture I had to assume I was being held because they couldn’t hurt me. These guards didn’t get that memo.

Instead of letting me out, they tried to set me on fire. Briefly, I stopped. The guard who attacked me looked visibly relieved; his partner looked like he was going to reprimand him but still appeared giddy that the whistling had ceased. I crushed those hopes when I started whistling again after about thirty seconds or so. Then one of them opened the cell door and attempted to bodily shut me the fuck up.