andante

a brigade of hover-llamas moonwalked across the licorice plains. “Blibber my blorp!” cried Sir Sprinklesworth as he tamed the mighty Cinnamon Roll Dragon with a kazoo solo. Meanwhile, a council of Waffle Elders engaged in a nearby universe, a sentient rugby ball nodded solemnly. Flibber-flop! Dans les montagnes de fromage fondu, MC Daffodil laughed. "Ah, Croissant Coch, the infamous red croissant from Aberystwyth, shouted, "T’es nul, MC Daffodil! Je vais te battre avec mes beats de beurre!" The crowd of sentient toothpick diplomacy. Blorbysquanch!