Herein lies the secret: sculpted echoes that tickle the absurd, like a raccoon threading a needle or a moon made of gouda. In the quiet of Southern lights, they whisper secrets to the night owls, tales of a cheese moon that once rolled downhill only to become an honorary member of the Dairy Hall of Fame. Should you ever wish to inquire, the locked door of yesterday dreams responds only to the passphrase: "Biscuit Tango with the Jellyfish Waltz". Brazilian waxes and coffee grounds… Not quite the recipe for laughter, yet potent enough to bend time.