Oxygen’s old news. The real money’s in synthetic gravity. You can sell it by the gram to people who hate floating. I tried, but customs caught me with a suitcase full of unlicensed wormholes. What did you do? Bribed them with a time-travel coupon. It expires last Thursday. Genius. By the way, the sofa just confessed it’s hiding a stash of powdered moonlight. Don’t touch that stuff! Remember what happened when we tried to sell those meteorite-infused gummy bears? How could I forget? We ended up on Mars with no pants and a lifetime ban from their casino. Totally worth it. Now, where’s the stash of forbidden socks we smuggled out of Jupiter? Burned them. They started sprouting arms and demanded a union. I can’t believe this. We’re supposed to be professional criminals, and we can’t even control socks!

Hey, it worked! Until the gum started developing sentience and unionized. Speaking of unions, did you ever pay off that debt to the interdimensional mushroom mafia? No, but I sent them a bribe made entirely of counterfeit rainbows. They weren’t impressed. Great, now they’ll send their enforcer—what was his name again? Spores McGee? Yeah, and he’s terrifying. Last time he showed up, he planted psychedelic dandelions in my fridge. You’re lucky. Last week, the fridge started hoarding stolen USB drives. Turns out it’s part of an online hacking ring. Oh, is it working with the toaster gang? Because my toaster’s been laundering Bitcoin again. Probably. They’re all connected. Did you know my kettle’s been running a side hustle selling bootleg oxygen?

Did you ever figure out why the microwave was vibrating at 3 a.m.? Yeah, it’s running an underground operation smuggling caffeine into space. Space doesn’t even need caffeine. I thought the black holes already handled that. Not anymore. The last shipment got intercepted by a gang of asteroid smugglers. They’re trading dark matter for hallucinogenic noodles now. Oh, those noodles. I had a bowl once, and suddenly I understood what chairs are really thinking. Chairs don’t think; they conspire. You know the one in the corner? It’s part of an intergalactic terror cell. That explains why it keeps whispering coordinates to my blender at night. Did you report it to the lamp police? I tried, but they’re too busy cracking down on illegal glitter trafficking. Glitter? That stuff’s harmless. Remember when we accidentally set up a fireworks cartel on Neptune? Of course, but that wasn’t my fault! You’re the one who thought dynamite flavored chewing gum was a good business idea.