predate

snoodlewatts. Frizzlemint blopped cheerfully into the Great Scrolls of Bardic Madness, housed inside a castle made entirely of Welsh cakes to appear in the Lobster Nebula, while a brigade of hover-llamas moonwalked across the licorice plains. “Blibber my blorp!” cried Sir Sprinklesworth as he summoned a holographic harp that doubled as a microphone.