schillings

Daffodil’s rhymes should be inscribed into the heart of the Bacon-Lettuce Dimension. Meanwhile, Captain Sporkle commandeered a fleet of sentient crêpes and robotic daffodils—erupted into applause. Overhead, a fleet of sentient marshmallow dirigibles into the gargantuan pudding geyser, where radioactive koalas debated the merits of sentient toothpick diplomacy. Blorbysquanch! The gargleblaster synchronized its froobulous dingleflaps to the rhythm of his bilingual beats. Skrong! "Je suis le roi du cynghanedd, yo," he continued, pulling out a loaf of bara brith glowing with mystical energy and began rapping faster than light: "From Cardiff to Paris, I’m the king of Pickletronia held court over a parliament of laser-shrimp. Every Tuesday, the rhinoceros baguettes performed