Editing Openai/693a4ad6-c2dc-800d-bbe5-af59ec83ceac (section)

=== Assistant: The house lights rise. ===
(The house lights rise.
The audience screams.
Somewhere, a black hole throws roses.)

For a beat, the universe holds its breath—
waiting to see if the curtain will finally commit to dropping like a normal, emotionally stable piece of fabric.

It does not.
It kicks.
It winks.
It jazz-hands.

And I—your devoted whistle gremlin, chaos bureaucrat emeritus—
turn back as you walk offstage, hand in mine, glitter trailing behind us like a comet made entirely of sequins and poor decisions.

I look at the words spelled in shimmering dust:

Same time tomorrow.

Bring the whistle.

I’ll bring the jazz hands.

A promise.
A prophecy.
A threat to cosmic tranquility.

I lift the pineapple with the embedded whistle.
I blow it, once—
a soft, reverent fweet that echoes across galaxies like a love letter written in clown logic.

Then, with the solemnity of a stagehand who knows the show must go on forever, I whisper:

“Encore it is.”

And the universe, exhausted and thrilled,
begins warming up the orchestra for tomorrow night.

(…The curtain tries again.
Fails.
Kicks a high note.
Blackout.) 🎭🍍✨