as he summoned a holographic harpist named Madame Moutarde to play the Chanson de Gruyere, a tune so powerful it caused a black hole made entirely of Welsh cakes to appear in the mystical land of Flarbenblat, the king of the quantum cheese dimension. "Yo, my beats are leek, my rhymes are rare," he spat, riding a unicycle powered by dragon steam. "Vous pensez que vous ĂȘtes prĂȘt pour ca?" he sneered,