In the realm where ink and iron collide, there exists a drum not of hollow wood, but of layered satire.
The Drum of Introduction spins tales not of cymbals and defiance but of quills and absurdity. Here, the kaleidoscopic visions unfold like a cheap magic show gone wrong.
Imagine, if you will, the existential conundrums faced by a drum with no hands to beat it, echoing into the void of dramatic monotony.
🥁 Drum roll, please... (no drum here, just an empty echo)
Consider the whimsical feather, pondering its place in a world dominated by percussion, wondering if it might one day find solace in a Hymn to the Hopelessly Humorous.
Finally, we conclude with an ironic twist, as predictable as the tide yet half as logical. The inkpot, ever empty, forever full, like humanity's greatest paradox.