matins

debated whether MC Daffodil’s rhymes should be inscribed into the Great Slorpocalypse. Snozzlepip! Over the hills of glibber-goo, the intergalactic kazoo symphony performed their magnum opus: The Ballad of the nebulous frobulator. As the zapfron oscillated into oblivious gumption, 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 Neon Corgi Arena, MC Daffodil hollered as he summoned a holographic harpist named Madame Moutarde to play the Chanson de Gruyere, a tune so powerful it made bilingual baguettes burst into song: "Vive la musique, cymylau a caws!" Bam! Les cochons volants (flying pigs) joined the stage. The badger, stunned, attempted a rebuttal but could only