Other Character Email Trogador RELOADED BIZNATCH/shorts

{cut to black screen that says "IN A.D 30X8". The screen then changes it's text it to "THE PURGE IS TAKING WAY TOO GORRAM LONG AND NOID IS ANGRY AND WANTS TO WRITE TROGADOR EMAILS BUT FORGOT TO SAVE HIS INBOX SO NOW HE HAS TO MAKE THESE LITTLE TOONS. THAT DRAGON I DIDN'T EVEN MENTION IS..." The words disappear, and TROGADOR in orange letters appears. Below are the options "START GAME", "SECRET CODE WORD", and "OPTIONAL OPTIONS". The first set of words light up, and we get taken to this screen....}

Trogador Discovers Indie Music

{cut to The Living Room (this is after Revolution by the way). Trogador is watching TV when Kray comes in, wearing headphones.}

KRAY: {in a half singsong half scream} Abe Lincoln's got a brand new bag! We just throw him around and expect him to stack!

TROGADOR: Kray!

KRAY: {takes off headphones} Yeh?

TROGADOR: What are you listening to?

KRAY: The Rust Scene's new a'bum, Lock Your Doors, Because Your Key's Under the Welcome Mat.

TROGADOR: Is that some new punk sensation?

KRAY: Nah, ah've moved on from that.

TROGADOR: {gasps} You abandoned punk? For this Crusty Seam?

KRAY: Tha's The Rust Scene, Trog. An' it's a lot better than anythin' Ronnie Totten put out!

TROGADOR: What's it called, anyways?

KRAY: They call it indie rock. 'Ere, 'ave a listen.

{Kray takes off the headphones. Trogador puts them on. Generic indie rock starts to play, so imagine lots of acoustic melodies! His eyes widen and turn a light shade of puce. His mouth hangs open, and the screen starts to twist diagonally, until it is in a spiral resembling some 19th century agnostic poet, take your pick. Cut to a black and white field. Kray is drumming in slow motion while Trogador stands behind him. They are both in color. Suddenly, Trogador blows fire all over Kray, who continues drumming. Everything goes into slow-mo, and we say Kray burning as he continues to drum. Trogador stands at the side, watching it. Cut back to the living room. Trogador is now wearing a brown beanie hat designed to look like it has glasses on it and a blue flannel jacket.}

KRAY: Pretty good, eh?

TROGADOR: What the-where did I get these clothes?

KRAY: You've always been wearin' 'em, Trog. Always.

TROGADOR: No, I'm pretty sure-

KRAY: Always.

TROGADOR: Um...okay. Well, it's actually kind of uncomfortable so I'm taking it off.

{Trogador unzips the flannel jacket, actually unzipping himself. Clyde hovers out of this Trogador carcass.}

CLYDE: Noid didn't know where to go from the last ten lines or so.

{Ba-dum tish}

Tampo's Exchange

{cut to a disgusting back alley. It's a standard disgusting back alley - overflowing trash cans, gang tags, all the stuff. After a few seconds of nothing, Tampo hovers down to the right, carrying a suitcase. Trogador flaps down and stands next to him.}

TROGADOR: Ummm, Tampo, you said we were going to pick up Blubbo's. Not go loiter around in some crime scene.

TAMPO: What? Oh, this is just some...business I've been meaning to get around to. I figured that since we were in the neighborhood, you wouldn't mind.

TROGADOR: Oh, well...that makes sense, then. You have a friend that lives here?

TAMPO: {turns around, looking insulted} In a back alley? What do you think I am, somebody that associates with the homeless?

TROGADOR: I don't mean any offense, but a giant brain that occasionally drips {points to pink puddle beneath Tampo that just appeared} doesn't make me think upper society.

TAMPO: That was just cold.

TROGADOR: Yeah, well, you've been pretty cold this entire night! First you wouldn't let me change the radio station - on my TrogPilot, might I add -

TAMPO: You just don't appreciate the beauty in a bass guitar. I thought that a musician would understand it, but noooo...

TROGADOR: I think the bass is fine, but that doesn't mean we need to listen to a station of just basslines!

{Suddenly, a van pulls up, blinking it's lights at Tampo and Trogador.}

TROGADOR: This your friend?

TAMPO: Yeah. Now, we need to make one thing clear - keep your mouth shut about this, capice?

TROGADOR: Sure thing, Harvax.

{The lights on the car turn off. A few seconds later, Bubs steps out, carrying two suitcases. Clyde is behind him, holding a large rifle.}

TROGADOR: Clyde? I didn't know you got your gun license!

TAMPO: Are you serious?!
CLYDE: Trog, man, what are you doing here!

BUBS: Looks like our gunmen have broken the first rule of etiquette, Tamps!

TROGADOR: Gunmen? Tampo, what's going on...

BUBS: You didn't tell your gunman? Geez, no wonder he's so rude!

TAMPO: {sighs} Trogador, this is a deal. I am a dealer.

TROGADOR: What is it...power crunches? Don't tell me you're selling crunches, Tampo...

TAMPO: What? Why would I be doing something illegal with you around?

{Bubs open his suitcases to show a bunch of snack packs of pudding.}

BUBS: We're sellin' pudding!

TROGADOR: Uhh...I'm pretty sure that's not illegal.

CLYDE: Just because it's illegal doesn't mean you can't get popped for holding some. Know what I'm saying?

TROGADOR: You know, Clyde, I'm a little curious as to why you're with Bubs...

CLYDE: There's a lot you'd be curious about with me. I moonlight as a hired gun occasionally.

TROGADOR: Yeah, but there was that business with the breaking-into-his-store and everything...

BUBS: Aw, I let byrons be byrons, Dragon! Bubs doesn't hold a grudge!

TAMPO: Now that we have all the personals out of the way, can we finally get this transaction completed?

BUBS: Sure, Brain. Go get your other suitcase.

TAMPO: Other suitcase? I only brought one.

BUBS: What?! Did you not pay attention in algebra? I got two suitcases full o' pudding and you only bring one suitcase full o' cash?

TAMPO: I'm almost positive you're getting more than the pudding is worth here.

BUBS: And I'm pretty positive you don't understand ratios!

{Suddenly, gunshots fire out from above. Everybody looks up and ducks down.}

CLYDE: Aw, man, not again...

TROGADOR: {shouting} Hey! I will let you know that I am a licensed Defen-

{The shots fire at Trogador, who runs and hides behind the van. Clyde and Bubs hop on on his tail.}

BUBS: Skedaddle, Dragon!
CLYDE: To the warehouse, go go go!

{Trogador flies off. Tampo quickly hovers after him.}

TAMPO: Oh, I am so kicking you out of my house!

{Shots continue to be fired until Tampo is offscreen. A few seconds later, 1-Up runs next to the van, in full Rambo garb. He surveys the scene for a while before resting up against the van.}

1-UP: Next time, Gadget.

{1-Up walks up to a pudding cup that fell out. He crushes it with his foot.}

1-UP: Next time.