Barty Buttercup's Cataclysmic Couch Conundrum

Bartholomew "Barty" Buttercup wasn't just unlucky; he was a walking, talking, perpetually-imploding anti-good-fortune magnet. His toast always landed butter-side down, even if he threw it butter-side *up*. Rain clouds formed exclusively over his head. Black cats crossed *him*. On the morning of the ominously designated 'Great Cosmic Alignment of Inevitable Doom' – a day the local astrologer (who, coincidentally, lost her job for predicting Barty would simply "exist") warned against leaving the house – Barty had a plan.

He'd stay in bed. All day. No movement. No contact with the outside world. He'd even had his flatmate, Mildred, tape a 'Do Not Disturb (Unless World Ends, Then Check Under Bed For My Remains)' sign to his door. He lay perfectly still, cocooned in his duvet, contemplating the sheer brilliance of his inaction. No car crashes, no falling pianos, no spontaneous combustion from rogue sunbeams. Just blissful, uneventful stillness.

He felt a faint tremor. "Must be Mildred dropping her interpretive dance weights again," he muttered, adjusting his pillow. The tremor grew. A low rumbling. Then, a distinct *thump*. And another. And then, a sound he'd only ever heard in disaster movies: the slow, groaning creak of structural collapse.

Turns out, a meteorite, no larger than a particularly ill-tempered chihuahua, had indeed fallen. But not outside. Oh no. It had struck the *abandoned, precariously leaning tower* next door, causing it to fall *directly onto Barty's apartment building*, specifically *his bedroom*. The final, ironic touch? The meteorite itself, having fulfilled its cosmic duty, bounced off a structural beam, rolled through the gaping hole in his ceiling, and landed with a gentle *plink* directly into the lukewarm mug of tea he'd strategically placed on his bedside table earlier.

Barty, now pinned under a surprisingly comfortable pile of plaster and splintered wood, sighed. "Mildred," he called out, his voice muffled, "could you pass me the sugar? This tea is a bit... terrestrial."