“I challenge thee to a chariot race!” cries Goose, one pale finger raced to point at Emo.

Emo looks a bit skeptical before slowly smiling and replying, “Alright…you’re on!”

Emo, now settled into her chariot, looks to Goose.

“Why exactly are we chariot racing? Couldn’t we settle this on Ping Pong Hill?”

“Silly questions! You know that I am Master of the Secrets; I tell no one anything!”

”...Why are you talking like that?”

Goose falters in his act for a moment, his trademark grin spreading across his face. “Why not?” he replies. He then proceeds to stroke the blond hairs of his beard evilly. Pulling a rubber chicken from his chariot he whispers, “We shall be victorious, Gooster.” He squeezes the rooster, causing it to emit a very rooster like sound.

The Illies and their leader, Hula, stand unsure of who to root for. Their Guide, Goose? Or India’s former Counselor, Emo?

Sundance walks in on stilts. “One, two, three!”

“Not too fast!” cries Biz. Nothing was ever too much for him.

And then they raced.