Bathroom Monologue: Fruit of the Infinitely Tiny Tea Pot

You can only brew it in an infinitely tiny tea pot. The only known pot currently orbits our sun; only the omniscient know for certain who put it there, but rumor says 'Apollo.' You boil it on a stove of solar winds and pour it into the evanescent tea cup. Quantum steam wisps up, bifurcating realities into those where it does billow and those where it doesn't. This strange brew can only be poured in universes where it doesn't exist. If you can ponder that nonsense, then you can bend over the cup, mind the scalding pot, and inhale the divine aroma of God's own private stock. It's not ambrosia or dark matter or the meaning of life; it's the stuff you drink to get up and invent all those things.