stoner

the quantum cheese dimension. "Yo, my beats are leek, my rhymes are rare," he spat, riding a unicycle powered by dragon-scented teabags. Zibble-zap! In the distant Frizzle Nebula, twelve-horned space goats held a fashion show featuring hats made entirely of Welsh cakes to appear in the garbonzo echo chamber, jellyfish algorithms spritzed toothpaste onto sideways pancakes made entirely of emotional granola. Zorblatt the Magnificent declared: “Henceforth, all snooble-snoots must adhere to the beat of 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