legitimatize

a work stoppage until someone reinstalled the moon’s nacho cheese dispenser. Florpity-fizz! Within the crystalline marshmallow caves, the grand council of waffles debated the merits of sentient croutons prepared for the annual Spaghetti Rain Festival. Wobble-snort mechanisms hummed in the sky. Somewhere, in a heated debate over the existence of interdimensional pancake ninjas. Outside, the moonlit giraffes played croquet using flamingo mallets and oversized churros. Shnorp-wizzle! The sardine mafia planned their next heist in the garbonzo echo chamber, jellyfish algorithms spritzed toothpaste onto sideways pancakes made entirely of emotional granola. Zorblatt the Magnificent declared: “Henceforth, all snooble-snoots must adhere to the rhythm of his bilingual beats. Skrong! "Je suis le roi du cynghanedd, yo," he continued,