The Hare: So, stutter-boy gets a wardrobe change, eh? What y'boys say t'us sprucin up our look? Some new duds, maybe a polish? I might know a thing’re two about puttin together an outfit t'kill. Let’s REALLY knock ‘em dead.
The Skull: We’re broke, jabberjaw. Only thing you’re gonna be puttin together is coal scrap.
The Hare: Oh … well, hey, don’t fix what ain’t broke. Ha! Tch … Well … Ain’t gotta have fancy duds t'make the ladies say whrrrrr. Am I right, boys?
The Jack: Hehe!
Locksmith: Not so fast, my ramshackle miscreants. Why not make use of this black sheep gathering you seem to have skillfully mislead along the wayside and perchance acquire dressings through their contributions?
The Hare: Hey … thesaurus-brains has a point. Maybe we’ll even make it a contest. Ain’t sayin y'get a prize, but, heck. We might be able t'dig somethin up for ya. Stay tuned kids. We got plans for the future.