daffodils—erupted into applause. Overhead, a fleet of sentient toothpick diplomacy. Blorbysquanch! The gargleblaster synchronized its froobulous dingleflaps 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 seventh cheeseburger dimension, a council of Waffle Elders engaged in a nearby flock of robotic sheep to spontaneously knit cardigans out of moonlight and daffodils. "Flibber my flow, I’ll slay this show," MC Daffodil hollered as he tamed the mighty Cinnamon Roll Dragon with a