Ask Azula: The Mental Hospital Edition
(It's a plain, but decently furnished white room. There's a bed in the corner, a little desk covered in mailbags, and ample padding everywhere. On the wall is a small framed picture of Agni and there's also a dartboard. Azula sits at her desk, wearing her white hospital dress, her arms and legs chained up.).
AZULA: Ah! Inferiors—er, I'm not in a position to call you inferiors, am I? Um, greetings! Well, as any red-blooded citizen of the world would know by now, I fought the forces of goodness and had my ass handed to me, as well as a first-class ticket to this mental institution. Damn!
(She pats the large pile of letters.)
Um, however, my therapists have suggested that I do some good by starting up my old discontinued Q+A show. It's probably all just a plot to weaken and ultimately kill me, but I'll just proceed with caution. It's like my father always said, "Nothing ventured, nothing gained!" But then again, this is the same guy who tried to dominate the earth dressed like a chicken… and CRUELLY LEFT ME BEHIND TO SINK INTO THE DEPTHS OF INSANITY!!
(She rises, angrily shaking her chained fists. She eyes her box of darts, but seems to think better of it and instead beats the mailbags, sending mail everywhere.)
WHY? WHY? WHAT DID I EVER DO? WHAT? WHAT…?? I HOPE YOU DIE IN A DITCH CHOKING ON A HAM SANDWICH!
(Lin, a lady in a nurse's uniform, enters with an injection needle.)
LIN: Uh-oh! Medicine time, dear!
(Gives Azula an injection, which immediately stops her tantrum.)
AZULA: I NEVER DESERVED…I never…oh. Oh, I feel so much better now. Mmm, I feel a little fuzzy. Oh, thank you, Mama Lin.
LIN: Why don't we tell everyone the guidelines now, dear?
AZULA: Mmm…yes, let's do that. Okay, infer—er, friends! Here are the guidelines!
You can send me two things: a letter with a question, or a gift! It can be one or the other, or both.
If you send me a letter, please don't ask me more than two questions. My drug-wracked, fragile mind can't handle too much complex thinking.
If you send me a gift, keep in mind that my nurses check them first, and if they deem it inappropriate (pictures of you in your underpants) or something that I shouldn't have in my unstable frame of mind (a weapon that can shred the fabric of the universe and destroy all existence), they'll donate it to charity and use the proceeds to buy themselves a frappaccino.
If you send me a gift, you don't have to send a message along with it, but a card would with well-wishing would be a nice decoration for my little room.
Thank you in advance! I'm looking as forward to your letters as much as I once looked forward to dominating the earth.