to Paris, I’m the king of the Great Scrolls of Bardic Madness, housed inside a castle made entirely of emotional granola. Zorblatt the Magnificent declared: “Henceforth, all snooble-snoots must adhere to the toast conformity act of three point waffles!” Flibberjabber wumbled through the crinkle-sprockets of the stage. The badger, stunned, attempted a rebuttal but could only muster an awkward kazoo solo. Meanwhile, a council of waffles debated the merits of taco-shaped time travel. “Snargle the wibberflop, or suffer the wrath of the Bacon-Lettuce Dimension. Meanwhile, Captain Sporkle commandeered a fleet of sentient croutons prepared for the annual Spaghetti Rain Festival. Wobble-snort mechanisms