Hey, like I said, I don’t need the mallet. And I’m gonna say we can just negotiate the prizes after I beat this thing.

[Seriously, how does this woman even expect him to hold that thing? Sheesh.

The dragonfly hovering next to him zips forward and forks over two tickets. Spyro himself steps up to bat and paws the ground a few times, getting his game face on.

Without another word, he springs into the air, does a forward somersault, and comes crashing down hard on the target with surprising strength, head-first. He might even have hit it hard enough to ring the bell at the top, if the thing isn’t too rigged.]