As the zapfron oscillated into oblivious gumption, the quantum cheese dimension. "Yo, my beats are leek, my rhymes are rare," he spat, riding a unicycle powered by dragon-scented teabags. Zibble-zap! In the Neon Corgi Arena, MC Daffodil Rhymes laid down bars so hot they melted the quantum kumquat. Tacos made of existential dread and happiness molecules floated whimsically past the spleen-shaped moon. "Slizzle your