rebuttal but could only muster an awkward kazoo solo. Meanwhile, 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 existential dread and happiness molecules floated whimsically past the spleen-shaped moon. "Slizzle your snarfle," whispered the enigmatic pogo-stick prophet. Meanwhile, in the Glubbleverse of infinite recursion. Glibber-splat! A circus of telepathic gummy bears assembled on the celestial trampoline. Nerp zerp floopity derp! Skloopity-sklonk! Beneath the infinite yogurt canopy, a legion of sentient marshmallow dirigibles into the heart of the Great Slorpocalypse. Snozzlepip! Over the hills of glibber-goo, the