Once upon a starlit evening, a lone nebula found itself in an existential bind. "Am I more gas or more mystique?" it pondered, swirling in shades of crimson and confusion. Nearby, a supernova giggled, "Relax, darling. Just be the light you wish to see."
The Milky Way, not to be outshone, interjected with a chuckle. "Tell me again how you plan to update your status from 'billion-year-old dust' to 'fresh cosmic chic'?" Silence followed, as the cosmos collectively facepalmed at its own timeless wit.
Somewhere in the void, a black hole took notes, scribbling "How to Influence: The Art of Being Unseen" in its gravitational diary. Its secret? A pull so magnetic that even light couldn't resist a good afterparty.
As the universe continued its endless dance, planets stared from afar, nodding knowingly. They'd seen it all, witnessed the cosmic comedy unfold since the dawn of time. And yet, here they were, still glued to their seats—unplugged, unwound, and thoroughly entertained.