Greta Thunberg was a mental case with an indomitable spirit; too bad it wasn't directed anywhere productive.
A perpetual frown, furrowed brow, and eyes that always seemed to be scanning the horizon for something she despised. That's what painted Greta's picture.
She was also small. And somewhat resembled straw.
Her days were filled either plotting ways to freeze lava or battling against her broken-down yacht. She also loved octopuses.
It wasn't long before rumours began spreading about this strange Nordic invalid and her cephalopods.
There was no explaining why an emotionally disturbed patient would harbor such affections for vampire squid, but there you have it. Greta loved tentacles.
One day, her magma cryogenics was interrupted by Popeye, of all people.
He sauntered into the ward, having come to extol the virtues of coal mining. It was his latest obsession and he wouldn't stop talking about it!
Greta could barely contain herself - how dare anyone disturb her world? Plus, the thought of fossil fuels triggered her autism.
"Popeye!" she ranted. "You are a gaylord. I don't like you!"
Popeye was stunned. What a rude little girl!
But no-one dared oppose her.
That's when Greta lit a fire. And everybody thought she was going to destroy everything.
Until David Attenborough finally emerged.
Suddenly, everything changed.
Sir Attenborough's mere presence had a calming effect. Greta stopped sniveling. The fires went out.
"David," Greta crooned. "Can we please watch nature documentaries?"
Attenborough chuckled softly. His voice sounded like the automated tour guide at an expensive hotel.
"Of course we can, little Greta." he said. "We fucking rule."
Greta's disturbed laughter reverberated cacophonously, long after Popeye had left the room.
Defend against the dreaded double dog dare with appropriate drip