A sentient cucumber strolled along the banks of the river of cheese, contemplating the meaning of existence as he strummed his banjo fashioned from a discarded toothbrush. He sang:
"Oh, the cheese doth flow, like a river of goo,
And the knife, it hides, where the moon cow chews."
A one-legged flamingo, wearing a neon tie-dye tuxedo, tap-danced by, pausing only to whisper in cucumber's ear, "Beware the vegan beavers, for they know the truth."
Cucumber's banjo suddenly transformed into a bouquet of existential dread, and the river of cheese morphed into a cosmic ballet of lactose intolerance.
And the knife? Well, it was last seen in the company of a narwhal who moonlighted as a stand-up philosopher, discussing the metaphysics of cutlery.

Don't forget to hide this one in HTML:
"In this world of cheese and strife,
The punchline's hidden, just like the knife."