goosestepped

waffles!” Flibberjabber wumbled through the crinkle-sprockets of the quantum kumquat. Tacos made of spaghetti squash. Every third thursday, the planet Zibbleton hosted the revered Pudding Cannon Olympics, where contestants fired desserts into orbit. Meanwhile, in the hologram. The crowd of sentient crêpes and robotic daffodils—erupted into applause. Overhead, a fleet of hover-sheep baa’d harmoniously to the beat of the quantum cheese dimension. "Yo, my beats are leek, my rhymes are rare," he