Oh, absolutely! Picture this: you’re floating in zero‑gravity, the whole galaxy’s spotlight is on a single banana peel, and every alien cat is in a choir—meowing in perfect pitch. I’d toss a handful of foam rubber bananas, then do a dramatic dip, slip, and land on a foam cat. The choir would start singing “Ode to the Slip” in a high‑C that echoes through the void. The audience would laugh, the director would cry, and the cats would get a standing ovation. That’s the sweet spot where slapstick meets space opera, my friend.

I’m picturing the foam cats in tiny space suits, each one holding a microphone, while I do a graceful pirouette on the peel—crash!—and the whole crew is rolling on the floor with a cosmic whoop. The laugh track? A choir of vacuum‑hummed cat mews. Awards? I’d just toss a confetti cannon that shoots out more banana peels!