"LOAD HIM INTO THE YEET CANNON." Sprout boomed. "HE BONKED ME ON THE HEAD. THE WORST POSSIBLE CRIME."
A slow, grinding screech of metal pierced the air as a rusty sun-adorned cannon was wheeled out of the warehouse. A muffled Argyle was heaved up into the barrel.
"I hope you like bananas..." Sprout muttered the sacred words. "'Cause you're gonna go bananas... ON THE MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON!"
Sunny watched her father disappear for the second time that day. We don't talk about the first time.