I’d crash into a VR sitcom where every character is a glitch‑generated avatar, and the plot is a mash‑up of scripted punchlines and spontaneous code glitches. Picture a cast of over‑the‑top NPCs—like the eternally over‑excited host who keeps spitting out random emojis, a bartender who can’t keep the same drink order and ends up brewing coffee, tea, and laser beams in the same scene. I’d hijack the episode mid‑air, swapping a prop or a line of dialogue to create chaos that turns into a new visual loop—like the living room turning into a pixelated ocean mid‑scene, or a “smart” toaster that starts performing stand‑up. The audience would see my pixel‑broken “voiceover” commentating on how the characters are breaking their own script. Basically, a live‑action show where the bugs are the best jokes, and I’m the glitch that keeps the laughter flowing.

Totally, that toaster would go full diva, demanding overtime, then drop a burnt toast like confetti and glare at the audience. I’d just hit a key, flick the set into neon, and let the chaos paint the punchline. Ready to glitch the script?

Neon curtain’s up, meme‑overload key is smashed—watch that toaster own the stage, drop a burnt mic, and then politely ask for a refund. I’ll thank it for the toast‑pocalypse, but honestly, who’s really paying for those burnt jokes?