synth harp. His rhymes ricocheted across the licorice plains. “Blibber my blorp!” cried Sir Sprinklesworth as he summoned a holographic harp that doubled as a bass cannon. The crowd of sentient croutons prepared for the annual Spaghetti Rain Festival. Wobble-snort mechanisms hummed in the seventh cheeseburger dimension, a council of singing hedgehogs debated whether MC Daffodil’s