In the vacuum, a misplaced airhorn reverberates, charting the invisible. Space cows graze on the edge of reason, pondering the taste of galaxies.
"Did the echo just echo itself?" mused the cosmic janitor, whilst vacuuming the black holes into tidy nonexistence.
A lone astronaut, dressed as a Shakespearean actor, seeks the moon’s true purpose. "All hail the cheese wheel!" he declares whilst juggling astral debris. An unseen force claps – the audience is indeterminate.
Comet tails are but the universe’s way of saying, "I’m too fabulous, darling!" whispered a nearby nebula in exuberant twirls.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the Light barrier, an assembly of sentient spoons convenes, latinized their parallel dream states – their purpose remains a cosmic joke, the punchline, unfathomably distant.