Once upon a light-year, in a galaxy not so far away, the interstellar vines began to grow.
Our narrator, a rather bored nebula, decided it was time to send a postcard back to Earth.
Nebula: "Greetings, Earthlings! Your cats have been snooping around my cosmic cloud. I charge a fee for intergalactic tourism. Paws and all."
Meteor: "The synthesis of your cheese pizza with star dust is as profound as the black holes in my heart."
Starry-eyed and starry-minded, the message floated adrift along the astral pathways. But are we listening?
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