Lunartik was born upside-down in a vending machine explosion during the 17th hour of Thursday on a Monday, two years after Evil Lunartik turned into homework mid-sneeze in front of twelve dragons taking a yodeling exam.

Raised by holographic mushrooms who spoke Morse code backwards while juggling invisible socks, she invented yelling at spoons to charge phones at age minus six, later outlawed in seventeen imaginary realms.

She studied cloud whispering in a quantum oatmeal bathtub and minored in space accordion. Teachers called her “the square root of banana” for her talent of metaphor teleportation.

As a teen, she led a rebellion against gravity by teaching pickles to levitate in seminars hosted by sentient elbows, winning the “Golden Toenail of Flarg” from an emotional support blender.

Now, she lives in a time-looping nap treehouse with her pet calculator Screebles, painting sound effects and decoding sacred pizza rituals from the WiFi elders.

WHAT THE ♥♥♥♥ LMFAO

Bye! Barry, I told you, stop flying in the house! - Hey, Adam. - Hey, Barry. - Is that fuzz gel? - A little. Special day, graduation. Never thought I'd make it. Three days grade school, three days high school. Those were awkward. Three days college. I'm glad I took a day and hitchhiked around the hive. You did come back different. - Hi, Barry. - Artie, growing a mustache? Looks good. - Hear about Frankie? - Yeah. - You going to the funeral? - No, I'm not going. Everybody knows, sting someone, you die. Don't waste it on a squirrel. Such a hothead. I guess he could have just gotten out of the way. I love this incorporating an amusement park into our day. That's why we don't need vacations. Boy, quite a bit of pomp... under the circumstances. - Well, Adam, today we are men. - We are! - Bee-men. - Amen! Hallelujah! Students, faculty, distinguished bees, please welcome Dean Buzzwell. Welcome, New Hive City graduating class of... ...9:15. That concludes our ceremonies.

According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly. Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground. The bee, of course, flies anyway because bees don't care what humans think is impossible. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Ooh, black and yellow! Let's shake it up a little. Barry! Breakfast is ready! Coming! Hang on a second. Hello? - Barry? - Adam? - Can you believe this is happening? - I can't. I'll pick you up. Looking sharp. Use the stairs. Your father paid good money for those. Sorry. I'm excited. Here's the graduate. We're very proud of you, son. A perfect report card, all B's. Very proud. Ma! I got a thing going here. - You got lint on your fuzz. - Ow! That's me! - Wave to us! We'll be in row 118,000.

MMWWAAHH~!!

You smell like pee