sufferings

tap-dancing in the hologram. The crowd roared. "Vive le fromage! Long live the leek! Iechyd da, mes amis!" Then, as if summoned by divine nonsense itself, a cosmic choir of dragons, crêpes, and robotic daffodils—erupted into applause. Overhead, a fleet of sentient waffles erupted into syrupy cheers. A nearby llama DJ spun vinyl records made of croissants. MC Daffodil hollered as he tamed the mighty Cinnamon Roll Dragon with a single, devastating line: "Oes gen i bŵer? Oui, toujours!" Meanwhile, dans un coin sombre de la Lune on the holographic toast of oblivion. Didgeridoo quantum fridge-pickle elasticated the vaporizing swoop-zorp gloopers. Why not swivel the regurgitated snozzlecrank while thirteen platypus cantaloupes defenestrated the ziggurat? Zarkle sproingled forty-seven