Okay so honestly I'm running out of ideas for this thing. I don't like to have more than two stories going at once and I really want to start this new humorous story idea. So, this story is coming to a close. So sorry if you'd hoped it would stay around longer, but if you need my strange humor, I'll still be writing forever. Enjoy the last chapter.

Previously in Iroh's poetry corner…

Why is my nephew so damn mad?

His daddy hates him, that's why

Why is my niece so damn evil?

She was born lucky, that's why

Why is my brother so damn dastardly?

He's a maniacal monster, that's why

Why am I so damn bored?

I have nothing better to do, that's why

Nothing better to do

NOTHING

BETTER

EVER

I think I'll have some tea now."

Today in Iroh's poetry corner…

Zuko picked up a slip of paper that Iroh had left carelessly on the coffee table. His eyes flicked over it as he read a crude and badly written poem. "UNCLE! WHAT THE HELL IS THIS? I AM NOT MAD ALL THE TIME!"

"You are now," Iroh shouted as the door slammed behind him and he ran for dear life.

And so ends Iroh's poetry career.

At the magic theater…

The crowd let forth a thunderous cheer as the curtains opened. The stage was empty. A soft silence echoed through the crowd. On the center of the stage was a single white rose. Slowly, the crowd realized that the rose was burning. A few of the people in the audience screamed, but the rest watched eagerly. Three separate plumes of purple smoke erupted in three of the aisles. The crowd stared at them and as the smoke dissipated, three figures emerged. Zuko began walking down the center aisle towards the stage and Katara and Toph followed suit down the side aisles. Zuko climbed onto the stage and approached the smoking rose. He picked up the charred remains and showed it to the audience. Zuko smiled and tapped the rose with a finger. Purple smoke enveloped his hand and when it cleared, he held up a newly restored rose. The crowd clapped. The show had begun.

In an alleyway outside of the magic theater weighing the odds…

Jet paced back and forth as much as the narrow and short alley would allow. He'd stepped out here for some air, but it was hardly better than the cramped closet that passed for a dressing room. Tonight was supposed to be the night. The night his greatest rival died. But at the moment, he wondered if it really was worth it. He had other talents, other passions. He didn't need magic like Zuko did. He found that the many reasons for hating Zuko were vanishing. So Zuko was better at magic than him? He was better at other things. He didn't need to be better than Zuko any more. So what if Zuko had Katara and he didn't? This strange girl he kept seeing everywhere occupied his mind these days. He found himself wondering "Katara who?" Jet certainly felt that he had no personal vendetta against Zuko anymore.

But what of his employer? Jet's hand slipped into his pocket where a golden key rested against the fabric. Useless thing it had proved to be. It hadn't gotten him anything he wanted or at least was supposed to want. Though he'd certainly found a very fascinating girl because of it. Jet tore his mind from Azula again; he was deliberating at the moment. He had no time to fantasize about a girl who ran away every time she saw him. There was something irresistible about that. FOCUS! His employer, the mysterious man behind the mask, whoever the hell that dark and desperate voice was, wanted Zuko dead. And if Zuko didn't die, he would.

Jet moaned in frustration. Honestly, did he even have it in him to kill? Jet didn't know. Jet pulled the key out of his pocket. The golden little demon glared up at him. It seemed to speak to him. You know what to do. Ok, then. What did he know? He knew that he had meant to kill Zuko all along. He knew that he had been hired to do so. He knew that in the subsequent weeks he had also found many reasons not to kill Zuko. He knew that he no longer wanted to kill Zuko and did not know if he was actually capable of killing someone. He knew that if he didn't kill Zuko, he would be killed. Jet glared down at the key. You're still selfish, aren't you? Yes. He was selfish. Zuko must die.

Backstage…

Aang looked strange dress in the black uniform common to those working as stage crew. It wasn't his color really. Aang perched himself on the top of several crates out of the way, so he could watch the show without being a nuisance which could definitely happen. Every time Toph had come off stage, she had given him a hearty flick of the forehead and walked off to her next position. Aang rubbed the growing red spot on his forehead.

He could see Zuko onstage now. A large cabinet had been rolled out next to him and Katara was now getting into it. Zuko closed the door and gave the cabinet a good spin. When it stopped, he opened the top third of the door to reveal that Katara's head was no longer there but her feet were. Her torso had remained in the middle section of the cabinet, but her head had been displaced to the very bottom. The crowd gasped. Zuko closed the door again and gave the cabinet another spin. When the door opened again, Katara emerged completely whole. The crowd cheered.

The good mood was disrupted by a fierce shout. It could not be heard over the cheering at first, but as the crescendo died down, no one could mistake the angry shout. "ZUKO, YOU WILL DIE!"

Aang's eyes widened as a lean figure climbed onto the stage. Aang could recognize the shaggy brown mop anywhere. It was Jet. Aang tensed and realized that Toph had materialized beside him. "C'mon let's get out there," she muttered, dragging him onto the stage. Katara's eyes were wide.

"Zuko," Jet repeated softly. "You will die."

Zuko looked tense, but ready to fight if he had to. Katara moved closer toward him. "Jet," she said. "You don't want to do this."

Jet glanced at her but felt nothing. He shook his head. "It's not personal anymore," he said sadly. "I know I don't want to do this, but I have to. I'm selfish. If you don't die, Zuko, I will."

A new voice joined the frenzy as a girl dressed in red came running down the aisle. "NO! Jet! Don't kill my brother!"

"AZULA?" shouted a few incredulous voices, none more incredulous than Zuko. He turned his gaze to his sister. "What are you doing here?"

"I come to every performance," she admitted softly. "Don't tell Dad."

"He wouldn't believe me anyway." He turned back to Jet. "You know him?"

"Vaguely," Azula responded. She stalked over to Jet and slapped him. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" she demanded. "You're making a fool of yourself."

Jet stared at her in disbelief.

Azula took hold of his ear and started dragging him off the stage. "Come on! Stop dragging your feet!"

A third voice shouted out as a girl in pink stumbled onto the stage. It was Ty Lee. "Can someone help me?" she shouted. "I'm lost and I have a carrot stuck up my nose." She started running for the other end of the stage and another girl followed after her.

"Get back here!" Mai shouted.

Another voice echoed through the auditorium, this one sounding particularly murderous. "STOP!" Everyone did stop as the intimidating form of Ozai one of the city's foremost business tycoons and alleged crime lord made his way to the stage. "ALL OF THIS IS GOING TO STOP! YOU WILL NOT BE A MAGICIAN!"

"So this is what it's all about!" Zuko turned red. "You can't respect my dreams so you're going to mess with all of these people!"

Ozai frowned. "I didn't know you felt that way. I just wanted you to be happy."

"What made you think I wasn't?" Zuko glowered.

"I don't know." Ozai breathed deeply. "You really want to be a magician?"

Zuko might have rolled his eyes or said something sarcastic and witty, but it didn't seem appropriate. "Yes."

"Ok, then. Carry on." Ozai started walking away.

"THAT'S IT?" Aang shouted. "What no awesome battle or anything? Geez, no wonder I left this is boring."

Toph nodded. "Yeah, let's go to Singapore."

"Ok."

Katara and Zuko looked at each other. "Yeah, Singapore sounds fun. Let's go! Hey, wait up."

"Wait for us too!" Jet shouted, dragging Azula along with him for she still held on tightly to his ear.

Iroh sat in the front row, crying. Sniff. "They're all leaving me for Singapore." Sniff. "But wait!" Sniff. "If they're in Singapore, I can write my poetry!"

One last Iroh's poetry corner…

"And so it ends,

The mysterious way

The Singapore

That stole away

My friends and family

Enemies and neighbors

Grocery stores and poetry-haters

There is a moral I do not know

It is not: avoid yellow snow

It is not: stay away from pigeons

It is not: name a pet rat widgeon

It is not: look before you leap

It is not: never give up a dream

It is not: kind outweighs mean

It is not: simply ponder this

It is not: be sure before you kiss

This moral eludes the wisest man

The proverb man

The garbage can

It is where ever you may look

The lesson which is in no book

The story that has made its mark

The fable lying in your heart

The moral is what you have learned

In nor other way is earned

The end

The end

This is the end

If there are problems

I'll make amends"

In cabbage heaven…

"Every time a bell rings a cabbage gets its wings," the cabbage man said.

"But cabbages don't have wings."

"SILENCE FOOL!"

And there you have the end. Sorry if it came too quickly, but I'm ready to bid this story adieu (if I've managed to spell that right, then I'd say I'm pretty freaking cool). I hope you have enjoyed this story as much as I have. It's certainly been a lot of fun and creative release when I've needed it. You know me I can't keep away from the humor for long. I'm starting a Norse mythology theme comedy soon. I'll figure out a title for it at some point and I may even post the first chapter now. So keep your eyes peeled (though I wouldn't a potato peeler that could hurt) (sorry for that terrible, terrible, terrible, awful joke. I should be burned at a stake for that). Anyway I hope you enjoy my other writings and thanks for hanging around for this one.