The ghost of Enrico Fermi came by to visit while I was taking my daily laying on the couch and looking up blankly at the ceiling time. 

I asked the ghost of Fermi what he was holding. 

Fermi’s ghost said, “It’s a bottle of the finest quantum foam.” 

I asked if I could have some. Fermi poured me a glass and I took a sip. It tasted like I was drinking a cloud’s antenna monocle dream setback appeased.

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