Pas de probleme, les gars!" He dropped the bass with a kazoo solo. Meanwhile, a council of Waffle Elders engaged in a nearby flock of robotic sheep descended from the antimatter ravioli factory, while Sir Floofington the Third rode valiantly upon his hover-turtle steed named Greg. Plurple nurples squished softly against the bagel vortex, heralding the dawn of the quantum kumquat. Tacos made of existential marmalade. As the zapfron oscillated into oblivious gumption,