It was one of the last days of summer. Dr. $ and Skife were choppin it up over some cliffside cobbee at The Manor. The topics of conversation were of recent discoveries they had in their respective $cientific RnD labs of FAKEA Industries and gm Regional Hospital. Skife was sharing trade secrets on how FOGEL HOMPHEN played a significant role in streamlining the development of RUGGEDROTHKO. Dr. $uss was floored at the work that went into its creation - truly a fake staple every home would one day have, if they were so lucky.

Out of no where, the chads were interrupted by the sound of sirens. And not just any sirens. This was the sounds of Hootie and The Blowfish in the distance. Dr. $ and Skife rolled their eyes and kek’d. They stood up from their Tungsten table and walked to the cliffs edge to look down below. And what do you know, right on schedule.

It was Grant Riven Yum getting his daily dose of $peedo $unbathing in the deep BLeU noise.