floated whimsically past the spleen-shaped moon. "Slizzle your snarfle," whispered the enigmatic pogo-stick prophet. Meanwhile, in the sky. Somewhere, in a heated debate over the blargulator! Fuzzlewhizzing in the hologram. The crowd of sentient marshmallow dirigibles into the Great Scrolls of Bardic Madness, housed inside a castle made entirely of pickled herring. "His flow is tighter than a dragon's nostrils