Dig pathetic Oswald, tarted up like the Lecher of the Black Lagoon, all for a cheap taste of Fox ta-tas! (uh… where do I rent me one of those suits, by the way? Might be the very thing to break the ice with lovely Lucy!) Regardless, the old fossil's got a splendid grasp of divide and conquer: separate chutes leading to ice-cold baths (like those nipples could stand to be any more prominent!), thence on to creepy passages jammed with lubricating slime! A tangle of kelp forest for Nina; clinging sea stars for Babs; and who knows what manner of gropey horror for my blonde sweetie! If I get to the costume store soon enough, it could be me!