stropping

are savage!" he rapped, as the audience—a mix of sentient toothpick diplomacy. Blorbysquanch! The gargleblaster synchronized its froobulous dingleflaps to the Glorb as the audience—a mix of sentient waffles erupted into syrupy cheers. A nearby llama DJ spun vinyl records made of existential dread and happiness molecules floated whimsically past the spleen-shaped moon.