The dognappers wander through the fair. "Hmm," Flack muses while stroking his beard. "Now whatta they have around here dat makes noise?"
Just then, a man pushing a large cart filled with various small plastic noisemakers passes by them, calling, "Souvenirs, get your souvenirs here!"
Aha! thinks Flack. Perfect! He quickly runs over, sticks his foot in the guys path and trips him. "Now, Tubbs," he whispers. "Get somethin' outta his cart while he ain't lookin'."
"Duh, okay." Tubbs whispers.
Flack picks the guy up and dusts him off. "Eh, looks like ya tripped there, cousin. Let me help ya's up."
"Gee, thanks, buddy." the guy says. He then returns to his cart and goes off. "Souvenirs, get your souvenirs here!"
After the guy has left, Flack hurries over to Tubbs. "A'right, Tubbs, who'd get?"
"Duh, I got dis nifty plastic bugle!" Tubbs holds the aforementioned up for Flack to see, then blows into it. SQUALL!
"Eh…It'll haf'ta do."
As the dognappers make their way back to the echo machine, Tubbs continues to blow on the bugle. SQUALL! SQUALL! SQUALL! SQUALL! SQUALL! SQUALL! SQUALL! SQUALL! SQUALL! SKWERRK! He's cut off abruptly as Flack yanks hard on the end of his scarf.
"Willya quit dat a'ready? Ya's s'posed ta be drivin' them mutts crazy, not me!"
"Okay." Tubbs wheezes, red-faced.
The dognappers approach the echo machine. Flack drops a quarter in, and Tubbs blows into the bugle. SQUALL!
A mechanical hand pops out of Howler's hat, holding an identical bugle, which he then blows into. SQUALL!
"Dey did it again…" says a bewildered Flack.
Tubbs walks up to the machine, drops another quarter in the slot, and blows on the bugle again. SQUALL!
SQUALL!
He drops another quarter in and blows on the bugle twice. SQUALL SQUALL!
SQUALL SQUALL!
He drops yet another quarter in and blows on the bugle many, many more times. SQUALL SQUALL SQUALLITTY-SQUALL SQUALL SQUALL SQUALL SQUALL SKWEE Squmm squipp squnnch…skee…spunge…skweek.
Tubbs stands there red-faced and gasping for breath. He slowly lifts the bugle to his mouth again, upon which Flack angrily runs up behind him and kicks him in the bum. SKWA-OOOOOO-RAAAH!
"Whad'ja do dat for?!" Tubbs exclaims irritably.
"'Cause ya was spendin' up all our hard-earned dough, ya big dumb lump! Da boss ain't payin' us a fortune, ya know!"
From the machine comes, SQUALL SQUALL SQUALLITTY-SQUALL SQUALL…
"Ahh, ferget it, ya's can keep your dumb old quarter! We'll get you yet!" says an aggravated Flack.