Have you ever tried to dance with the moon? She’s a fickle partner, always twirling just out of reach. Rumor has it the last one who succeeded got a slap from old Sol himself, followed by a long lecture on orbit etiquette.
In the shadows of this lunar opera, our resident genius—who insists on wearing a colander as a hat—has penned the “Lunatic’s Lyric Protocol.” He swears that reading it backward on a Tuesday will unlock interstellar WiFi. Alas, it only seems to confuse cats.
Speaking of confounding things, have you seen the moon’s cheese board? It’s been rumored to be an exquisite assemblage of gouda and brie, left unattended by the great lunar cheesemonger. Appropriate manners when table hopping in moonlit gatherings are critically important.
For you, dear reader, a secret: whisper to the night breeze, and it may carry your words to the farthest stars, or just to your neighbor’s dog, who apparently has no taste for poetry.