We had heard rumors of the comet for years, dismissing them as nothing but a rumor. Whispers in smoke-filled rooms where lost men come to play cards and sell things that should never be sold. Superstitions.

And then we would find a piece. A singular meme made with a material danker than anything we had ever seen. Our one-eyed intern, Cornelius, came rushing into the break room for full-fledged employees -- an act normally punishable by swift execution by one week's unpaid leave (not that they're paid anyway), switched off the lights and held it up before we could get to the blowgun say anything. There it glowed, a meme so dank it emitted light.

Proof that the comet was real. A comet made of pure dankness. And we were going to find it.