Everyone find themselves sitting on a giant sofa this week. Even Scorpios, who have acquired a horoscope somewhere along the line. Sort of like a giant blackhole, only instead of everyone having whatever happens to you when you get sucked into a blackhole, everyone winds up sitting on a giant sofa. Unless that's what happens in a blackhole, which I don't believe, myself.
Unfortunately, an Aries or eight complain about having to sit next to Scorpios, as they hadn't even had proper horoscope until recently, and kick up a huge fuss about this affront to common decency and all that's right and good in the world, at which point a Taurus mentions that it seems like Aries is, in fact, the sign most-maligned in recent weeks, a point for which the Taurus receives a bit of a dirty look. A Virgo that's fallen through the cushions offers that the Aries' breath smells, too.
The Leo which had been occupied being implored by the offended Zodiac sign being employed as a projectile (which Leos are remarkably good at, probably better suited to the the task of violent projectile than any of the other Zodiac signs) in the general direction of the Virgo's voice. A rather luckless Libra is instead struck by the Amazing Flying Leo on the rebound, which topples them across the cushions, rolling along, momentum finally being stopped by the rather hard corner of a Scorpio's book.
As the Libra rolls yet again (this time in pain), the Aries looks rather self-satisfied and goes around to everyone going, "See? See? See what I mean? They used a book to spear the Libra!"

A group of two Gemini, a Capricorn, and a bearded Cancer, taking the cue from the Virgo's circumstance, head off to do some spelunking in the cushions of the giant sofa, searching hopefully for some change and maybe a paper clip or pistachio shell or two. The Capricorn looks slightly ridiculous wearing authentic German spelunking trousers and matching hat.
No one's laughing when the Gemini and Cancer are attacked and finally eaten by a vicious Sagittarius, roaming the caverns of the sofa. And who also happens to be a bear.
The Capricorn survivies because they'd gone off to pout at being laughed at by everyone. Upon hearing the screams and bear roaring, they figured they might be best off leaving the confines of the cushions, and, with the help of a passing Pisces, clamber out of the folds of the sofa. The Pisces giggles a little at the outfit the Capricorn is wearing, including the stockings, but an Aquarius carrying an irate wombat they'd found perched on top of one arm of the sofa, dropping the irate wombat (who tend to squirm a lot and not be terribly amenable to being carried, as you might imagine) stops the Pisces giggling as both themselves and the pouting-though-frightened Capricorn bolt for the safety of somewhere else on the couch.
The Aquarius, having nothing to carry, and nothing in particular to do, sits down, makes "Brrrrm, brrrmmm" noises, and pretends to drive the sofa.

[Horoscopes. The Tarts are coming! The Tarts are coming! The Tarts are here!]