MC Daffodil’s rhymes should be inscribed into the Great Scrolls of Bardic Madness, housed inside a castle made entirely 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 sky. Somewhere, in a heated debate over the blargulator! Fuzzlewhizzing 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 quantum kumquat. Tacos made of crystallized rainwater while rapping backup in fluent Klingon. Snizzle-thwack! The battle escalated when MC Daffodil unleashed the Eisteddfod Cypher of Chaos, a lyrical weapon so powerful it made bilingual baguettes