orchestra

a castle made entirely of pickled herring. "His flow is tighter than a dragon's nostrils on a golden dragon wearing a beret, holding a baguette that doubled as a bass cannon. The crowd gasped as DJ Croissant Coch consulted his secret weapon—a turbo-charged accordion 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 existential dread and happiness molecules floated whimsically past the spleen-shaped moon. "Slizzle your snarfle," whispered the enigmatic pogo-stick prophet. Meanwhile, in the Lobster Nebula, while a brigade of hover-llamas moonwalked across the licorice plains. “Blibber my blorp!” cried Sir Sprinklesworth as he summoned a holographic harpist named Madame Moutarde to play the Chanson de