How about that pirate ghost? Eh? Eh? What'd I tell you? You got them suck-eeeeerrrupting fans cheering so loud you couldn't hear a Bulky Bob-omb exploding. And trust me, pal, that's just what I was listening for.
Wuzzat? Where have I been? Where have
I been?
I've been finding the answer to all of our problems, my goop-clutching compadre. You clutch goop, right? Think I heard it in, ueh, your theme song or something. But don't you worry about that - orthecoupleofCDsinyourofficethatbusted - when there's bigger fish to fry. That's right! I'm moving back out, 'cause I've got a fighter that'll slip us both out of these Happy Lucky Chains. Take a look up my sleeve and see for yourself the unbelievable, the bottomless, the green and gold machine...
COIN COFFER
"Hack, Pthh, Chuch"? That's in your head right now, am I right, or am I right? You're thinking "Honio, what is this, a sack with smoker's lung"? Au the contrary, my amiguay - that's a little Parisian for you, a little
moi de champagne before we celebrate slipping these handcuffs off tonight. This is a
Coffer, not a
cougher. What's it do?
What's it do? Waluigi Time, my tomato stain on a suit jacket, this little croaker makes dreams come true!
It spits out money! Cold hard cash! Are you hearing me, my Chuck-commander? Are you HEARING ME? We're scot-free! The Bob-ombs? They're paid! Your munchies company? Rolling in the dough! The police? I hear that Shmue Toad's a strickler, but, hey, leave it to your old pal to
schmooze over the cops and massage the boys in blue. We're living large, and all you've got to do is put this little croaker in the ring!
Losing him? No sirree. You ain't losing him in there. Little croaker can turn invisible! Ain't that great? Ain't he just the best thing you ever laid eyes on? Almost brings a tear to my eye. She's like the child I never raised for my cousin when he lost the kids to the wife. She'll get in the ring, run around unseen like that Shmaluigi bozo going undercover, do some hops, and pelt the other guy with coins until we collect our cas- hhhhit the bell for the knockout.
Explodes when they run out of money? Lose money when they're hit? Wuzzat? You've been reading too much of those eggheads' journals again, am I right? Don't think too hard about it. This is our golden goose! We're cornerin' New Wikisburg with this. You and me, we'll own the joint! That big skyscraper tearing down the bamboo, HypnoDimentio Neptunia and whatever his Bowserpodium is, that two-bit newspaper, even the pride of the peddling corner Toadbert, anything you want, you'll get it!
We'll get it. And, most important of all, your office is yours again, friend. Mi casa es mi case and ye casa is yu casa. What'd'ya say?
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