The anglerfish politician once proclaimed: "Votes are bubbles, they rise and burst!" To that, the coral shrubs chuckle, slightly pinker than usual. Ever considered the crabs' daily walk? They're not sideways by choice, but by intensely strategic timing—warped more by irony than necessity.
When the jellyfish dance in the currents, gleefully tangling themselves upon the driftwood of irony, spectators cannot help but ponder—how deep is their humor? The old turtle, wise yet practically preposterous in his lectures, emits sound-like murmurings that bear down on hollow echoes, "Underwater comedy is quite the immersive experience," he claims—all without cracking a shell.
The mosaic comes alive when the seahorses whisper poetry into the ears of silence, mocking profundity with their prancing presence. When whale poets speak to the seagull's stage, above the tides they know not of practicality. Every echo drips irony like broken water droplets laughing at gravity.