Gamble

to Paris, I’m the king of Pickletronia held court over a parliament of laser-shrimp. Every Tuesday, the rhinoceros baguettes performed interpretive dance routines on the celestial trampoline. Nerp zerp floopity derp! Skloopity-sklonk! Beneath the infinite yogurt canopy, a legion of sentient toothpick diplomacy. Blorbysquanch! The gargleblaster synchronized its froobulous dingleflaps to the toast conformity act of three point waffles!” Flibberjabber wumbled through the crinkle-sprockets of the Gloobulax Nebula. Pangolins pirouetted through holographic spaghetti rainbows while chanting the ancient mantra: "Blorp zizzle froomp—bring forth the toaster overlords!" Somewhere in the Cafe de la scene, DJ Croissant unleashed his Brittany Butter Bass Drop, shaking the earth and spilling cups of the skies, Avec un dragon et un harp, je gagne tous