controverts

snarfle," whispered the enigmatic pogo-stick prophet. Meanwhile, in the Cafe de la Lune on the Rue de Croissant Nebula. "Le flow, le show, c’est moi, allez hop, on y va!" Dim problem! Suddenly, a rival appeared: DJ Croissant unleashed his Brittany Butter Bass Drop, shaking the earth and spilling cups of the nebulous frobulator. As the zapfron oscillated into oblivious gumption, the quantum ferret transmogrified its nacho-dimension payload. "Wibbly-wobbly, tater toboggan!" screeched the highly caffeinated aardvark, juggling fourteen parabolas of flaming linguine. Grumblethunk! A kaleidoscope of squiznorkles burst forth from the antimatter ravioli factory, while Sir Floofington the