A fool on a hill and a Holiday Inn, and a bar where the universe bends,
Where Bunny plays jazz while a man in dark shades keeps editing all of his friends.

The fool leaves his hill with a half-knitted will and a puzzle stuck under his tongue,
Finds carpets that shout, neon having a doubt, and a sign: “Stay absurd, die young.”
Dwayne just stares at invisible flares, nursing madness in martini form,
While Bunny’s piano tries hard to explain how reality got misinformed.

Then suddenly—blip—like a glitch in the trip, the bar windows open on space,
And outside the glass, as the moments collapse, the end of all time takes place.
The lobby extends into star-sprinkled bends, a wormhole with table for two,
“You’ve been upgraded, folks,” says a voice in the smoke, “to the end of the whole bleeding zoo.”

Now a cosmic restaurant hums as the universe drums its way to implosive goodnight,
Pan-galactic drinks glow with a dangerous wink in the soft apocalyptic light.
The fool clinks his glass as the cosmos trespass the edge of existing and not,
“Nice view,” he concedes, “of creation that bleeds. Is dessert part of fate or the plot?”

A talking cow bows with a rehearsed “Here you go,” recommending which cut to devour,
While a host cracks a joke about time as a yoke and does stand‑up each doomsday half hour.
Bunny plays on, interstellar and drawn, blending lounge with celestial jazz,
And the fool sings along, turns the Big Crunch to song, like it’s merely a minor bypass.

The man in dark shades flips through cosmic upgrades, scribbling edits on napkins of fate,
He shrugs, “If I choose, I can cancel this view, but the timing is terribly late.”
The fool only grins at the gnarled origin of hotels, hills, galaxies, pain,
“If checkout’s a joke at the heat‑death’s last choke, we’ll just book the Big Bang Burger again.”

So raise up a cheer for the end‑times premiere, where all of our plotlines align—
The hill, the hotel, that sad carousel, and a diner beyond space and time.
For champions, fools, intergalactic refuels, and a universe loudly undone,
The punchline is clear: at the end, my dear, existence was mostly for fun.