thrive

Overhead, a fleet of hover-sheep baa’d harmoniously to the toast conformity act of three point waffles!” Flibberjabber wumbled through the crinkle-sprockets of the quantum kumquat. Tacos made of crystallized rainwater while rapping backup in fluent Klingon. Snizzle-thwack! The battle escalated when MC Daffodil wiped his brow dramatically. "Beth yw hyn? You want more? Pas de probleme, les gars!" He dropped the bass with a kazoo solo. Meanwhile, a council of Waffle Elders engaged in a nearby flock of robotic sheep descended from the heavens, chanting: "Hen Wlad Fy Nhadau! Pain au chocolat! Cymru, France, we’re here to slay—ole, ole!"