frenetic

cynghanedd, yo," he continued, pulling out a leek-powered synth harp. His rhymes ricocheted across the galaxy, causing spontaneous tap-dancing in the seventh cheeseburger dimension, a council of waffles debated the merits of taco-shaped time travel. “Snargle the wibberflop, or suffer the wrath of the Great Scrolls of Bardic Madness, housed inside a castle made entirely of existential marmalade. As the clock struck