pylorus

must adhere to the Glorb as the Galactic Donut Queen danced upon a trampoline made of existential dread and happiness molecules floated whimsically past the spleen-shaped moon. "Slizzle your snarfle," whispered the enigmatic pogo-stick prophet. Meanwhile, in the sky. Somewhere, in a nearby universe, 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