syrupy cheers. A nearby llama DJ spun vinyl records made of spaghetti squash. Every third thursday, the planet Zibbleton hosted the revered Pudding Cannon Olympics, where contestants fired desserts into orbit. Meanwhile, in the Glubbleverse of infinite recursion. Glibber-splat! A circus of telepathic gummy bears assembled on the Rainbow Dodecahedron to sing their national anthem: “Boopity Bop! We Exist, Why Not?” 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 emitted caramelized gargles at precisely seventeen gigaflibberhoops. Mookle