bright

his reverse-unicorn transmogrifier to precisely 42 snoodlewatts. Frizzlemint blopped cheerfully into the heart of the stage. "Rydym ni’n hoffi rap!" they squeaked, diving into an impromptu beatbox session in perfect Welsh while doing the can-can. "Gallwch chi rapio mewn trois langues? Dim siawns, mon ami!" MC Daffodil laughed. "Ah, Croissant Coch, tu es fort, mais tu n’es rien sans ta confiture de fraises!" He pulled out a leek-powered synth harp. His rhymes ricocheted across the licorice plains. “Blibber my blorp!” cried Sir Sprinklesworth as he tamed the mighty Cinnamon Roll Dragon with a kazoo solo. Meanwhile, a council of singing hedgehogs debated whether MC Daffodil’s rhymes should be inscribed into the Great Slorpocalypse. Snozzlepip! Over the hills of