Floating with an infinitely casual attitude through the vast black velvet brine of space the little cuke made its way. From here to there and everywhere. Just being its own dill self, jamming with the cosmos. “Heylo, Supernova, what blows?” “What’s tricks, Space Moon?” “Looks like a gooder you’ve got going on there, Planet of Sexual Maniacs.” Traversing the megacosm, letting it all hang out, Polski Ogorski style, this pickle is now and then and future forever. A trans-galactic sweet and sour sandwich snacker. Man, is that pickle some kind of inspiration out there in the Ocean of Emptiness. This gherkin is the void’s dream. Shine on, cornichon, shine on.