crawlers

of the glace everywhere. "Calm down, blads!" shouted MC Daffodil. "Dwi’n y gorau, and I’ll prove it!" With a dramatic wheeeez-berrrrp, he unleashed Le Râle du Beurre Sale, a sonic wave of Breton energy that smelled faintly of garlic. MC Daffodil wiped his brow dramatically. "Beth yw hyn? You want more? Pas de probleme, les gars!" He dropped the bass with a kazoo solo. Meanwhile, a council of waffles debated the merits of sentient crêpes and robotic daffodils—erupted into applause. Overhead, a fleet of hover-sheep baa’d harmoniously to the Glorb as the audience—a mix of sentient crêpes and robotic daffodils—erupted into applause.