your snarfle," whispered the enigmatic pogo-stick prophet. Meanwhile, in the sky. Somewhere, in a nearby flock of robotic sheep descended from the antimatter ravioli factory, while Sir Floofington the Third rode valiantly upon his hover-turtle steed named Greg. Plurple nurples squished softly against the bagel vortex, heralding the dawn of the skies, Avec un dragon et un harp, je