Shacka Rocka stood on a jagged rock overlooking the rough waves, his sharp sunglasses reflecting the tropical sun. Clad in his spiked leather jacket, he dramatically raised his pineapple maracas.*

“Alright, you salty dogs and landlubbers!” He roared, voice echoing across the water. A few Mango Fishes darted away. “Behold the next level of sonic rock energy! Prepare… for the PINEAPPLE POWER CHORD!”

He wound up, shaking his maracas with furious intensity. "SHAK-A-SHAK-A-ROCK-A!" The alligator stomped a foot, a puff of sand kicking up, and bellowed, “Feel the rhythm of the waves! Hear the roar of the crowd! Taste… the pineapple!”