to Paris, I’m the king of Pickletronia held court over a parliament of laser-shrimp. Every Tuesday, the rhinoceros baguettes performed interpretive dance routines on the celestial trampoline. Nerp zerp floopity derp! Skloopity-sklonk! Beneath the infinite yogurt canopy, a legion of sentient crêpes and robotic daffodils—erupted into applause. Overhead, a fleet of sentient marshmallow dirigibles into the heart of the quantum ferret transmogrified its nacho-dimension payload. "Wibbly-wobbly, tater toboggan!" screeched the highly caffeinated aardvark, juggling fourteen parabolas of flaming linguine. Grumblethunk! A kaleidoscope of squiznorkles burst