a torta venerable trifle from the snack_tips workshop goes off to the races,

goes to see a man about a horse,
to see a horse about a plan, to plan a massacre with the help of a seahorse,
to pull said massacre outta his pants (again?!)
and while he does this
begins to dance

he does a dance which controls the ants
who march like mechanized_plantain_rabbits over a cliffside and into the depths of as yet unequaled beauracracy.

this is all recorded by a nearby group of giraffes_from_delphi who were in the fields of the_holy_rabbit_garage playing electromagnetic_croquet with an assortment of horf_mallets

the statement of "flraaaow" was issued unanimously by all and delivered to the press by the assistant_vice_giraffe who was then, ceremonially adorned with the permanent_antlers

In another part of hapsslj, two voles, a wombat, and a trio of crisp_puppies robbed a bank and made their getaway in an 81_poop_hatch, stolen from a man who spoke to rice_pudding for ndvice and commentary on the general state of the universe

"parallel lines," the rice pudding stated, matter of factly, "will intersect at the point in time and locaton when splacky_is_honk ... there is little else i can tell you beyond that just now, lest i fnd myelf having to answer to the eighty_eight_from_outer_space"

(assorted radio transmissions beamed through the black_rabbit_skullhead)
what's it to you?
who go