subsidize

of caws, it belongs to me!" declared MC Daffodil, planting a leek-flag 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 harp that doubled as a bass cannon. The crowd gasped as DJ Croissant Coch consulted his secret weapon—a turbo-charged accordion