"I'm feeling frisky tonight," said the old cat. "One 'meow' from me and the world will swim in my scream."

"Here is the sun," said the god. "Watch as I peel its surface with my dirty nails."

"Let's play a game of chess," said the boy. "One knight is all I need and your queen is mine."

"I don't know much about the sun or chess, but I sure can purr," said the old cat. "One more jump and when I land, the earth is mine."

"Feeble kitten. Simple boy. These flames I hold are unbearable to mortals," said the god. "When you bathe in fire, all your games are of no consequence."

"Since when do cats talk?" asked the boy. "And how do I know you're a god? You're just a voice to me. Show yourself and your fire. And when you do, challenge me to a man's game. A game of chess."

"Don't pay attention to him," said the cat. "I'm frisky."

"Who are you talking to?" asked the god. "Don't pay attention to the boy or should he not pay attention to me? If the former, I'm afraid I can't do that. If the latter, I'm afraid he can't do that."

"I'm afraid so," said the boy. "Until I find someone to play this game, a man's game, of chess with me, I'm afraid I'll remain this frisky god of fire."