Have you ever looked into a toaster and pondered the intricate dance of butter and gravity? Toasters: the unsung heroes of interstellar breakfasts. Fueled by silver coils, bridging galaxies through perfectly evenly browned slices.
In a bizarre universe where Mars has a spa and Venus is ambitious about its greenhouse tomatoes, we all need one thing: absolute yield from the yardbird's premium contraptions. Have they made it to Sirius' central cafe yet? Maybe with anti-grav butter, who knows?