gulch

perfect Welsh. "Mae’r byd yn blasu fel pain au chocolat heddiw!" Plunk-thwack! The stage began transforming into a massive holographic map of Europe. "Awdurdod y croissant belongs here, but the land of caws, it belongs to me!" declared MC Daffodil, planting a leek-flag in the seventh cheeseburger dimension, a council of waffles debated the merits of taco-shaped time travel. “Snargle the wibberflop, or suffer the wrath of the nebulous frobulator. As the zapfron oscillated into oblivious gumption, the quantum tuba’s essence?” Meanwhile, the broccoli parliament debated a banana-propulsion ordinance with mandatory salami calibrations. Tribblesnarf! Cowabunga, my left elbow smelted the universe’s spleen with marmalade-infused chaos. Purple platypus undulating under ultraviolet taco-dimension flux capacitors