The group stares at the Holy Cheese Grater of Antioch, glowing faintly in its absurd majesty.
Frank: “Okay, listen up! We are not staying here and becoming some grater-worshipping cult. I’ll turn this grater into a boat if I have to!”
Flat-Earther: “A boat, huh? Does that involve admitting water is real?”
Frank (gritting his teeth): “You’re one smart remark away from being grated yourself.”
Trump the Orangutan is already poking at the edges of the platform, confident he’ll find a secret exit.
Trump: “Trust me, I always escape. It’s what I do best. Nobody escapes better than me. The Guardian said it couldn’t be done, and I said—wrong!”
Suddenly, Flower Power Dalek spots something unusual.
Flower Power Dalek: “Oh, my cosmic companions, gaze beneath the platform! There’s a shimmering ladder of light, leading to… somewhere. Let’s descend with love and trust!”
Frank: “I’m not trusting a ladder made of light! It’s probably made in China!”
Zoot leaps forward, her usual enthusiasm unchecked.
Zoot: “Oh, Frank, don’t be such a grumpy goat! If the ladder breaks, I’ll just… fall gracefully into the abyss. Let’s go!”
As Zoot begins her descent, the platform trembles ominously. The others glance nervously at one another, waiting for someone to go next.
Flat-Earther: “Well, I don’t trust ladders, but I do trust my instincts. And my instincts say this is obviously a stairway to the edge of the Earth!”
Frank: “There is no edge! There’s no ladder, no grater, no… anything! This whole quest is a scam cooked up by a monk who watched too much Monty Python!”
Trump (already halfway down): “Hey, if I fall, at least it’ll be the greatest fall anyone’s ever seen. Tremendous!”
As they descend the glowing ladder, the world around them shifts in strange, surreal ways. The abyss transforms into an ocean of melted cheese, its aroma both intoxicating and horrifying.
Flower Power Dalek: “Look! It’s the cosmic cheese soup of harmony!”
Frank: “It’s fondue, you metallic lunatic! Keep moving before we drown in Swiss!”
Suddenly, they spot a strange figure rowing a small canoe made entirely of crackers. It’s none other than the Guardian of the Grater, now wearing a sunhat and sipping wine.
Guardian: “I knew you’d find me. I was just enjoying some me-time.”
Frank: “You’ve got a boat?! You let us think we were trapped while you were having a cheese picnic?!”
Guardian: “Oh, this? It’s not a boat. It’s a metaphor.”
Flat-Earther: “A metaphor for what?”
Guardian (grinning): “Escape.”
The group stares at the cracker canoe, now teetering on the edge of the bubbling cheese ocean.
Frank (throwing up his hands): “A metaphor for escape? What kind of New Age garbage is this? You might as well give us a dreamcatcher and a scented candle!”
Flat-Earther: “I don’t see the problem, Frank. We commandeer the metaphor, row it to the edge of the Earth, and prove we’ve been right all along.”
Frank: “Oh, sure, let’s just hop in and trust a snack-based flotation device. Why not? What’s next, a kite made out of lasagne sheets?!”
Trump the Orangutan, who has been eyeing the canoe with a glint of ambition, pushes past them.
Trump: “Listen, losers, this is my kind of metaphor. It’s classy, it’s tremendous, it’s got crackers! I’ll be captain. Everyone else—crew.”
Frank: “You’re not the captain, you hairy dictator! You don’t even know port from starboard!”
Trump: “Port is a wine, starboard is a… star. See? I know everything. The best knowledge, really.”
Flower Power Dalek floats closer, marvelling at the canoe.
Flower Power Dalek: “Oh, my radiant friends! This metaphor represents unity, togetherness, and the power of cosmic snacks! Let’s embrace the journey!”
Frank (rolling his eyes): “Great. Now we’ve got a motivational poster in a tin can.”
Zoot, with her usual enthusiasm, jumps into the canoe first, dramatically posing at the bow like a figurehead.
Zoot: “Oh, Frank, stop grumping and start rowing! Adventure calls! And maybe some cheese crackers, too!”
Frank: “Fine! But if this thing starts to crumble, I’m blaming the Guardian, the Dalek, and whoever invented crackers!”
As they all climb aboard, the canoe creaks ominously but holds together. Frank takes the oars with his trademark exasperation.
Frank: “All right, let’s row this metaphor to freedom. Or to our doom. Either way, it’s probably going to involve me doing all the work while everyone else philosophises about cheese!”
The Flat-Earther eagerly scans the horizon.
Flat-Earther: “Any minute now, we’ll hit the edge of the Earth. Then we’ll know the truth.”
Frank: “Oh, sure. Any minute now, we’ll row off the edge, fall into the cosmic void, and land in a bag of tortilla chips! Maybe we’ll meet the salsa nebula while we’re at it!”
As they row deeper into the absurdity, the ocean of cheese begins to shimmer, and strange shapes appear on the horizon. A massive wall of crackers stretches across the distance, seemingly endless.
Trump: “I told you, we’d find the best edge. Look at that. A wall! Tremendous wall. Probably built by me.”
Frank: “Built by you? You can’t even build a coherent sentence!”
Flower Power Dalek: “Oh, glorious wall of crunchy potential! It’s the final barrier to cosmic understanding!”
Flat-Earther: “This is it! Proof! I’m going to touch it. I’ll be the first to stand on the edge!”
The canoe scrapes against the colossal wall of crackers, halting with a jolt. The group stares up in awe, the wall looming above them like an impenetrable golden monument.
The Flat-Earther scrambles out of the canoe, practically shaking with excitement.
Flat-Earther: “This is it! The edge! I knew it! I KNEW IT! Take that, round-earthers!”
Trump the Orangutan adjusts his tie, already reaching for his phone.
Trump: “I’m going to name it Trump’s Wall. It’s mine now. Everyone loves my walls. This one’s delicious, probably the best wall anyone’s ever seen.”
Flower Power Dalek spins in delight.
Flower Power Dalek: “Oh, what a glorious testament to the oneness of snack-based geometry!”
Zoot leaps out, pressing herself theatrically against the crackers.
Zoot: “Such a firm edge! Such a crisp barrier! Oh, the mysteries that lie beyond!”
Frank follows reluctantly, arms crossed, glaring at the wall.
Frank: “Oh, yeah. Great discovery. A giant wall of carbs. Humanity can finally rest easy. This quest has all the significance of a biscuit left out in the rain!”
The Flat-Earther runs their hands over the surface, searching for something, anything, that will confirm their long-held beliefs.
Flat-Earther: “There’s got to be a way through! Or over! Or… or something!”
Frank: “Oh, sure, let’s just climb the infinite cheese cracker. Maybe there’s a gift shop on the other side selling Flat-Earth T-shirts and kaleidoscopes of denial!”
Trump: “We don’t climb it. We go around it. It’s obvious. I’m the best at going around things. Look, just start rowing again.”
Frank (exploding): “ROW WHERE, YOU HAIRY LOBSTER? It’s a wall! You can’t ‘go around’ infinity! That’s like trying to win a staring contest with a mannequin—it doesn’t work!”
The Flat-Earther, undeterred, takes a running leap at the wall. They scramble up a few feet, but the crackers crumble under their weight, sending them tumbling back down into the cheese ocean with a splash.
Flat-Earther: “It’s okay! It’s all part of the plan!”
Frank: “Plan? PLAN?! This isn’t a plan—it’s a fever dream sponsored by Nabisco!”
Flower Power Dalek floats gently forward.
Flower Power Dalek: “Oh, my crunchy comrades! Perhaps the wall isn’t meant to be crossed. Perhaps the edge isn’t a boundary but an invitation to embrace the wholeness of our journey!”
Frank (whipping around): “WHOLENESS? We’re stuck in a sea of liquid cheese in a canoe made of crackers, staring at a wall that doesn’t even have the decency to make sense! Wholeness?! This isn’t philosophy—it’s a catering disaster!”
Zoot, lounging at the base of the wall, sighs dreamily.
Zoot: “Oh, Frank, darling, don’t you see? The edge isn’t the end—it’s the beginning!”
Frank: “The beginning of WHAT? Indigestion? An existential cracker crisis? I’m telling you, this wall is a metaphor for something, and I’m not sticking around to find out what!”
As the group argues, the wall begins to shimmer and tremble. The crackers crumble away, revealing… nothing. Just endless, infinite cheese, stretching in every direction.
Flat-Earther: “No… NO! It can’t be! There has to be an edge! There HAS to!”
Frank (with a sarcastic grin): “Oh, there’s an edge, all right. And we’re all standing on it. It’s called insanity.”
The camera pans out as the group bickers, their canoe drifting aimlessly in the sea of absurdity. Frank sits at the bow, arms crossed, muttering to himself.
Frank: “I’ll tell you one thing. If we ever get out of here, I’m never eating another cracker again. Not even if it’s served on a solid-gold plate with the Queen of England pouring the wine!”
