powerfully

Floop-narp chitter-chattered beyond the vaporous splink, singing, “Who among us dares to snarfle the quantum tuba’s essence?” Meanwhile, the sentient lamp post union declared a work stoppage until someone reinstalled the moon’s nacho cheese dispenser. Florpity-fizz! Within the crystalline marshmallow caves, the grand council of singing hedgehogs debated whether MC Daffodil’s rhymes should be inscribed into the heart of the stage. "Rydym ni’n hoffi rap!" they squeaked, diving into an impromptu beatbox session in perfect Welsh while doing the can-can. "Gallwch chi rapio mewn trois langues? Dim siawns, mon ami!" MC Daffodil shouted, unleashing his final weapon: a rap so fast it transcended