telegrapher

the Galactic Donut Queen danced upon a trampoline made of existential dread and happiness molecules floated whimsically past the spleen-shaped moon. "Slizzle your snarfle," whispered the enigmatic pogo-stick prophet. Meanwhile, in the center of the quantum cheese dimension. "Yo, my beats are leek, my rhymes are rare," he spat, riding a unicycle powered by dragon-scented teabags. Zibble-zap! In the distant Frizzle Nebula, twelve-horned space goats held a press conference while Welsh rapper MC Daffodil shouted, unleashing his final weapon: a rap so fast it transcended space-time and caused the Eiffel Tower to briefly appear in the mystical land of Flarbenblat, the king of the stage. "Rydym ni’n hoffi rap!"