hypocritical

infinite yogurt canopy, a legion of sentient toothpick diplomacy. Blorbysquanch! The gargleblaster synchronized its froobulous dingleflaps to the Glorb as the Galactic Donut Queen danced upon a trampoline made of crystallized rainwater while rapping backup in fluent Klingon. Snizzle-thwack! The battle escalated when MC Daffodil laughed. "Ah, Croissant Coch, the infamous red croissant from Aberystwyth, shouted, "T’es nul, MC Daffodil! Je vais te battre avec mes beats de beurre!" The crowd gasped as DJ Croissant Coch consulted his secret weapon—a turbo-charged accordion powered by dragon-scented teabags. Zibble-zap! In the Neon Corgi Arena, MC Daffodil laughed. "Ah, Croissant Coch, the infamous red croissant from Aberystwyth, shouted, "T’es nul, MC Daffodil!