The Write-Brain Workbook - Day 4 You are two years old. Write from this perspective. Be childlike! PLAY! Give yourself a name (with the initials C.A.T.): Callonius Aspra Twitter Nickname: Meow Eye color: orange Hair color: orange Favorite food: cucumbers Siblings' names/ages: Fwompa, 12 - Twurtle, 6 How they treat you: Fwompa thinks I'm the Devil's spawn, Twurtle thinks I'm the greatest new toy he's ever received Thoughts on toilet training: It's much easier to have someone clean it up for you. Start with: Here I am stuck in my crib, much like a convict. I see Fwompa sitting on the couch watching TV and painting her toes. She could come get me out of this thing, but I guess that's too much effort. One day I will be her master and she will regret her treatment of me. I could become exactly what she thinks of me. Then she'll truly think of me as the offspring of Satan. I won't get upset. I won't wail. I'll sit here patiently and devise great ways to torture her. First, I may have to wet myself, but it's a small sacrifice. Next, I'll make sure to drop a ferociously rotten bomb. She certainly won't be able to withstand both for too long. Even with the sickening smell of acetone. If I must, I can start a small constant whimper. I won't stop until she gets me. She'll find it far more annoying than a loud siren sort of scream. If I'm lucky. Twurtle will get so upset over all this, he will join in with his own pathetic cry. Then to top it all off, Mom will have to come running to check on her precious Meow. No matter the ending, I will prevail. Take that Satan's spawn's sister.