Under the pale light of a stratospheric moon,
an outsider whispered secrets to melodious shadows.
It was then, with delicate timing,
that the spoon declared its intent to become a fork.
The fungus, unnamed and unclaimed,
suggested a dance-like harvest of abraxas beans.
"These magnificent fruits will grant the wisdom of non-conversion tablets."
"Perhaps," pondered the humanoid, "but can they toast properly?"