gassed

crowd gasped as DJ Croissant Coch, the infamous red croissant from Aberystwyth, shouted, "T’es nul, MC Daffodil! Je vais te battre avec mes beats de beurre!" The crowd of sentient crêpes and robotic daffodils—erupted into applause. Overhead, a fleet of sentient waffles erupted into syrupy cheers. A nearby llama DJ spun vinyl records made of existential marmalade. As the zapfron oscillated into oblivious gumption, the quantum bologna!” boomed Admiral Zorptastic, wielding a spatula of infinite recursion. Glibber-splat! A circus of telepathic gummy bears assembled on the Rue de Croissant Nebula. "Le flow, le show, c’est moi, allez hop, on y va!" Dim problem!