At the edge of the universe, where space-time takes its coffee with a splash of uncertainty, quantum cats ponder their simultaneous states. Are they alive? Are they dead? Or have they simply succumbed to existential ennui, opting for a nap instead of a meow?
"I think, therefore I entangle," mused the theoretical hamster on a cosmic wheel, spinning out probabilistic dimensions faster than you can say "wave function collapse." Here, the horizon isn't just an end; it's a boundary that giggles at those who dare approach.
Beyond the horizon, perhaps there exists a parallel universe where cheese is currency, and all laws of physics are mere suggestions. In this universe, we are all but entangled particles in a quantum dance-off, with scriptwriters in lab coats and comedy gold in the void.