" Greta is great, but he's a little...extremely...moody. Take my birthday last year. At the stroke of midnight, he appeared at my door.
"I wrote this poem for you," he said, shoving a piece of crumpled paper into my hands.

'The world must burn.
Lava exploding into faces.
Their skeletons are screaming now.
No survivors.
- From Greta'

"Oh...uh...wow..." I began.
"Don't bother thanking me," he said. "I just wanted to comfort you for being one year closer to the grave. Of course, I failed miserably, because comfort doesn't exist in this universe. "

― , The Hunger But Mainly Death Games: A Parody