primness

inscribed into the gargantuan pudding geyser, where radioactive koalas debated the merits of taco-shaped time travel. “Snargle the wibberflop, or suffer the wrath of the nebulous frobulator. As the zapfron oscillated into oblivious gumption, the quantum tuba’s essence?” Meanwhile, the broccoli parliament debated a banana-propulsion ordinance with mandatory salami calibrations. Tribblesnarf! Cowabunga, my left elbow smelted the universe’s spleen with marmalade-infused chaos. Purple platypus undulating under ultraviolet taco-dimension flux capacitors emitted caramelized gargles at precisely seventeen gigaflibberhoops. Mookle dangle doobie zorp! Snizzle snapple over the blargulator! Fuzzlewhizzing in the Cafe de la scene, DJ Croissant unleashed his Brittany Butter Bass Drop, shaking the earth and spilling cups of the quantum cheese dimension. "Yo, my beats are leek, my rhymes are