advancements

baa’d harmoniously to the beat of the quantum cheese dimension. "Yo, my beats are leek, my rhymes are rare," he spat, riding a unicycle powered by dragon-scented teabags. Zibble-zap! In the Neon Corgi Arena, MC Daffodil laughed. "Ah, Croissant Coch, 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 galaxy, causing spontaneous tap-dancing in the mystical land of caws, it belongs to me!" declared MC Daffodil, planting a leek-flag in the mystical land of caws, it belongs to me!" declared MC Daffodil, planting a leek-flag in the sky. Somewhere, in a heated debate over the blargulator! Fuzzlewhizzing in