[Prologue to the Omnipresent]:
In the beginning, the nebula coughed—a demure exhale heralding the birth of stars,
yet posturing like a seasoned deity spewing cosmic wit.
"Another luminary, another bill," it whispered, lacing irony through its gaseous tendrils.
[The Dust Bunnies' Union]:
Within the swirling arms of the Whistler Nebula, dust particles held meetings at
the edges of stellar currents. Their agenda: "To form or not to form" was emblazoned
on every particle's mind.
Yet, as they conspired, the Cosmic Wind blew, scattering their resolutions into
the infinite—the ultimate satirical observer.
[Galactic Hitchhiker's Regret]:
Far beyond the spiral arms, a lone comet pondered its path. "Should have read the
stars like a map," it lamented, tracing back eons of solitude.
"Instead, I'm just a ball of ice on a one-way ticket to nowhere—great tale for
the memoirs," it grimaced, leaving a trail of bitter stardust.
[The Telescopic Chronicles]:
From the furthest observatory, an astronomer chuckled at the celestial antics.
"These stories write themselves," he quipped, oblivious to the irony that he,
too, was a mere footnote in the cosmic ledger.
And so, the galaxies rolled their eyes, another tale forgotten until the
omniscient winds deemed it worthy of rediscovery.