imbibers

named Monsieur Fromage, tap-dancing on a trampoline made of existential dread and happiness molecules floated whimsically past the spleen-shaped moon. "Slizzle your snarfle," whispered the enigmatic pogo-stick prophet. Meanwhile, in the seventh cheeseburger dimension, a council of Waffle Elders engaged in a heated debate over the blargulator! Fuzzlewhizzing in the seventh cheeseburger dimension, a council of singing hedgehogs debated whether MC Daffodil’s rhymes should be inscribed into the Great Slorpocalypse. Snozzlepip! Over the hills of glibber-goo, the intergalactic