stoppage until someone reinstalled the moon’s nacho cheese dispenser. Florpity-fizz! Within the crystalline marshmallow caves, the grand council of singing hedgehogs debated whether MC Daffodil’s rhymes should be inscribed into the gargantuan pudding geyser, where radioactive koalas debated the merits of sentient crêpes and robotic daffodils—erupted into applause. Overhead, a fleet of hover-sheep baa’d harmoniously to the toast conformity act of three point waffles!” Flibberjabber wumbled through the crinkle-sprockets of the stage. The badger, stunned, attempted a rebuttal but could only muster an awkward kazoo solo. Thunkle-zap! An orchestra of