In a world where oranges don bowler hats and twirl canes, the sun has peaked above the hill.
Our hero, Sir Clementine, bursts forth! Energy! Enthusiasm! An unsung silent song dances on the air.
"Tally-ho!" he seems to declare, though the words remain an ineffable whisper, etched across his zestfully animated flesh.
Suddenly, Madame Fanta pirouettes mysteriously under the woven shade of the verdant canopy.
The audience—an eclectic mix of nutty companions—silently gasps, the sound a mere thought bubble in this manuscript world.
With the sun dipping gracefully into the twilight, our citrus heroes take their bows.
Their journey, a symphony in stillness, resounds within every seed—they remain storybooks, unwritten yet understood.