forays

ricocheted across the licorice plains. “Blibber my blorp!” cried Sir Sprinklesworth as he summoned a holographic harp that doubled as a bass cannon. The crowd gasped as DJ Croissant unleashed his Brittany Butter Bass Drop, shaking the earth and spilling cups of the stage. "Rydym ni’n hoffi rap!" they squeaked, diving into an impromptu beatbox session in