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Ahoy, matey! Grab every last scrap ye can find—crates, barrels, rusted anchors, even that moldy sack o’ barnacle-encrusted doubloons—and pile it sky-high on this creakin’, groanin’, rickety little dinghy! The cap’n’s gone barking mad, screamin’ for a cargo so massive it’ll blot out the sun, a teeterin’ tower o’ booty that’ll stretch clear to the horizon! Balance that loot, lash it down with frayed rope, and pray the whole jumbled mess don’t capsize us into the briny deep! We’re buildin’ legend today—a floating mountain o’ madness even Davy Jones’d gawk at! Now *move*, ye bilge rats—that tide’s turnin’, and this ship’s leavin’ with the world’s most gloriously stupid haul or we’re all shark bait!
