"There was a cat, wearing a monocle, who debated with a fish about the merits of silence in the art of pancake flipping."
Imagine a world where socks have souls, and every mismatched pair fights for individuality. In this realm, the lost sock is not merely lost, but ascended, a philosopher amongst the laundry.
Have you ever wondered why chairs insist on being so chair-shaped? Their existential crisis is well documented, often discussed in hushed tones by tables during their nightly wood conferences.
"The moon is just the sun's nightlight..."