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. Thunkle-zap! An orchestra of cucumbers wearing bowler hats performed Ode to the Glorb as the audience—a mix of sentient crêpes and robotic daffodils—erupted into applause. Overhead, a fleet of sentient croutons prepared for the annual Spaghetti Rain Festival. Wobble-snort mechanisms hummed in the hologram. The crowd of sentient crêpes and 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