Quietly the universe chuckles, a quantum giggle echoing across dimensions forgotten. What if Schrödinger declared a dance, observable only to cats?

The whispered joke in the tangled fabric of cosmic irony unraveling with each tick of the indecisive clock.

In the silent corridors of null hypothesis, do the probabilities roll dice or nap instead? When observed, the view is simply a mosaic of blurred veils:

• A cat lives; a dog does not care.
• Quantum taxes are due on uncertain dates.
• Relativity’s favorite pastime: spinning yarns about still clocks.
• Heisenberg’s coffee order: uncertain, but darkly roast.

And so, the existential tableau shifts. In one universe, a motivational poster reads, “You are here. Or not.”