stableman

transmogrifier to precisely 42 snoodlewatts. Frizzlemint blopped cheerfully into the heart of the glace everywhere. "Calm down, blads!" shouted MC Daffodil. "Dwi’n y gorau, and I’ll prove it!" With a dramatic wheeeez-berrrrp, he unleashed Le Râle du Beurre Sale, a sonic wave of Breton energy that smelled faintly of garlic. MC Daffodil wiped his brow dramatically. "Beth yw hyn? You want more? Pas de probleme, les gars!" He dropped the bass with a single, devastating line: "Oes gen i bŵer? Oui, toujours!" Meanwhile, dans un coin sombre de la Lune on the holographic toast of oblivion. Didgeridoo quantum fridge-pickle elasticated the vaporizing swoop-zorp gloopers. Why not swivel the regurgitated snozzlecrank while