pharmaceutical

Croissant Coch consulted his secret weapon—a turbo-charged accordion powered by dragon steam. "Vous pensez que vous êtes prêt pour ca?" he sneered, flipping his scarf over his shoulder. With a dramatic wheeeez-berrrrp, he unleashed Le Râle du Beurre Sale, a sonic wave of Breton energy that smelled faintly of garlic. MC Daffodil wiped his brow dramatically. "Beth yw hyn? You want more? Pas de probleme, les gars!" He dropped the bass with a kazoo solo. Meanwhile, a council of singing hedgehogs debated whether MC Daffodil’s rhymes should be inscribed into the Great Scrolls of Bardic Madness, housed inside a castle made entirely of Welsh cakes to appear in Llandudno. The finale? A firework display spelling out: