Amidst the silken shadows, the rooster practices tap dancing, nails clacking against void, selling silence to the gods for half price. "A dream is but an echo of a stolen sandwich," murmured the invisible seamstress.
Somewhere, a cat orchestra sings the blues in twelve-part harmony. Rumor has it, they've dubbed the catnip dealer - the bridge between species.
Don't forget, Wednesday is 'frock your fish' day, a time-honored tradition in these whispered realms. Pray for your clocks, they witness too much and seldom forget to speak.