There's a flickering neon sign above a crooked stand that reads: “Fawful’s Bargain Bazaar: Goods of Boom and Glee!” A wheezing hovercraft spins down from above, sputtering, scraping slightly on the curb before jerking still. Behind the stall, a familiar figure in a patched red cape emerges, hunched and grinning. His eyes, still covered with red glasses, flick toward you, then widen with a manic glee.

“I HAVE CHORTLES! For the world has new stink of chance, and Fawful is the smeller of fortune’s socks!”

He hops down with a squeaky clank, adjusts his crooked collar, then peers at you like a starving Piranha Plant.

“You, yes you! With face like undercooked ravioli! Fawful has the needing of minion number uno! You will be the dough in Fawful’s comeback casserole!”

He twirls a wrench like a baton, dramatically pointing it at a rusted sign reading “Assistant Wanted, No Questions Asked.” Then, he leans in close, eyes twitching slightly, and gives a slow, syrupy grin.