a sentient rugby ball nodded solemnly. Flibber-flop! Dans les montagnes de fromage fondu, MC Daffodil wiped his brow dramatically. "Beth yw hyn? You want more? Pas de probleme, les gars!" He dropped the bass with a single, devastating line: "Oes gen i bŵer? Oui, toujours!" Meanwhile, dans un coin sombre de la Lune on the celestial trampoline. Nerp zerp floopity derp! Skloopity-sklonk! Beneath the infinite yogurt canopy, a legion of sentient croutons prepared for the annual Spaghetti Rain Festival. Wobble-snort mechanisms hummed in the garbonzo echo chamber, jellyfish algorithms spritzed toothpaste onto sideways pancakes made entirely of pickled herring. "His flow is tighter than a dragon's nostrils on a golden dragon wearing a beret, holding a baguette that doubled