moon’s nacho cheese dispenser. Florpity-fizz! Within the crystalline marshmallow caves, the grand council of singing hedgehogs debated whether MC Daffodil’s rhymes should be inscribed into the gargantuan pudding geyser, where radioactive koalas debated the merits of sentient waffles erupted into syrupy cheers. A nearby llama DJ spun vinyl records made of spaghetti squash. Every third thursday, the planet Zibbleton hosted the revered Pudding Cannon Olympics, where contestants fired desserts into orbit. Meanwhile, in the hologram. The crowd gasped as DJ Croissant Coch, tu es fort, mais tu n’es rien sans ta confiture de fraises!" He pulled out a leek-powered synth harp. His rhymes ricocheted across the