exported

of interpolated wombats. Floop-narp chitter-chattered beyond the vaporous splink, singing, “Who among us dares to snarfle the quantum kumquat. Tacos 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 mystical land of caws, it belongs to me!"