perfectionist

"Awdurdod y croissant belongs here, but the land of caws, it belongs to me!" declared MC Daffodil, planting a leek-flag in the Lobster Nebula, while a brigade of hover-llamas moonwalked 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 Waffle Elders engaged in a nearby flock of robotic sheep to spontaneously knit cardigans out of moonlight and daffodils. "Flibber my flow, I’ll slay this show," MC Daffodil wiped his brow dramatically. "Beth yw hyn? You want more? Pas de probleme, les gars!" He dropped