A Noel Fielding Inspired Rant

I'm comin atcha. comin atcha like a laser beam, like a tiger's dream of an ice cream scene. In the dark where the fark meets the mark of the assassin. Moving through the night like a fright flying a kite. With his hands so soft and creamy and yet so tasty crunchy. Oooh wheatabix hands, what are you doing to me?

So I finally get to the pool where the showdown is taking place, just in time to find that the festival is over and the candy is strewn about the floor in a quiet haphazard manner. Just in time to find that the festivities let their sails to the wind and passed on down the road to tuluga. The starfight and the gelly fish were already gone and the crowds had gone with them. Down the road to a place I'll never know and a time in which I'll probly be somewhere else. Praps in a dream. Praps in my mind. Praps getting to the bottom of a juicy juicy lollypop.

So on I go down the road, following my destiny on the long way into the sun when suddenly. And suddenly still. I met a man with Ram's legs.

He showed me the way.