Let's say,
you're an apple,
but you'd rather be a pear.
The internet recommends
phoning the produce gods,
in hopes of being replanted.
However, there's a catch:
it's a collect call
to another dimension.
And so you sulk and rage,
and pretty much bruise your skin,
until it dawns on you:
Wormholes are
spacetime's phone booth,
and it just so happens,
you're full of them!
Yes indeed!
Going bad never felt so right...