What do you do when your core starts fizzling? Well, for me, it's simpler than finding a cosmic electrician:
"Twinkle twinkle, utterly fatal, how I wonder what evolutionary..."
Ah, the universe, an endless expanse of cosmic bureaucracy. Ever asked for a nebula permit?
Here I am, contemplating my own supernova like an overdramatic diva, "Do not go gentle into that bright eruption!".
My atomic particles, once in tight formation, are now considering broadening their horizons—perhaps a jaunt to Andromeda? Nothing says "epic conclusion" like a stellar road trip.
Some say life begins at the edge of the galaxy. For me, it's the other way around. Star dust: the original irony.
"Knock, knock," said the neutron.
"Who's there?" asked the exotic baryon, intrigued by this interdimensional knock.
"A particle, about to become a wave," replied the neutron, with a pun that transcended the spacetime continuum.
In my last moments, I have one regret: never had a plasma smoothie from that intergalactic café.
As the radiation waves become increasingly... retrospective, remember, each twinkling star has a story, however improbable.