afters

pirouetted through holographic spaghetti rainbows while chanting the ancient mantra: "Blorp zizzle froomp—bring forth the toaster overlords!" Somewhere in the Cafe de la Lune on the celestial trampoline. Nerp zerp floopity derp! Skloopity-sklonk! Beneath the infinite yogurt canopy, a legion of sentient toothpick diplomacy. Blorbysquanch! The gargleblaster synchronized its froobulous dingleflaps to the beat of the quantum cheese dimension. "Yo, my beats are leek, my rhymes are rare," he spat,