"Okay, my gallows." Cheerleader said "Now that we've mashed play on this stage, what should we do now?"

"We could get lactated on my moms special Orange – Berry Juice!" said The Ugly One producing a bottle filled with an orange colored liquid.

"Orange – Berry Juice!" the girls yelled in unison.

Just then, something unusual happened. As the girls looked at the liquid in the bottle, a ripple appeared, then another. They then heard a soft, distant booming sound. Another ripple appeared in the juice when the sound happened. As they continued to listen, the booming sounds became louder and the ripples in the juice became larger and drops of juice began to jump up from it. Still the sound went on, growing louder and louder, boom, boom, boom. And the ripples continued their vibrating dance, until finally, a sound of rending brick and wood could be heard. Clouds of dust and debris swirled about from behind them and spots of sunlight could be seen.

A gigantic green leg descended from above, crushing The Ugly One beneath its foot. A second foot came crashing down onto What's Her Face. The first foot lifted and was brought down onto So and So. The second foot lifted and Cheerleader, realizing what was about to occur, covered her arms over her head.

"Aaaaugh!" she screamed. The foot landed just to the left of her. Cheerleader, seeing that she was not dead, breathed a sigh of relief. The first foot then stepped on top of her.

And there, standing amid the rubble of broken wall, wisps of smoke blowing about his jaws, eyes shinning like fiery embers in the shadow, his beefy arm gleaming in the rays of the setting sun, wings outstretched like a majestic, yet sinister cape, stood Trogdor, the Burninator.

"Oh no, he found me!" yelled the now conscious Marshie. Marshie tried to make a run for it, but Trogdor – so quick that his arm was a mere blur – snatched the fleeing marshmallow right out of the air.

"Fluffy Puffed Marshmallows," Marshie gasped "aren't all that great. Maybe try – Aaaaaugh!" A red jet of flame blasted from Trogdors mouth, turning the Fluffy Puffed spokesman a deep, dark brown.

Using his tail, Trogdor pushed a pair of very large graham crackers - along with a piece of chocolate - onto the stage. He place what used to be Marshie onto the chocolate, and placed the second cracker on top of him. He raised his giant s'more to his mouth and took a bite.

"I say, quite good." said Trogdor, who surprised everyone present by how light his voice was. He took a single step and sat down onto the chair. (Which crumbled underneath him)

"Know your stars, know your stars, know your stars, know your stars, know your staaaars."

Trogdor looked around to find where the voice was coming from.

"Trogdor, the Burninator…"

"'Ello?" said Trogdor,

"Lives in a stagnant pond."

"D'you mind mate? I'm eating." He took another bite from his s'more.

There was a slight pause before "Trogdor, the Burninator…"

"Eh?" said Trogdor, finishing the last bite.

"Is a gremlin."

"Actually," Trogdor pulled out a round – something. He breathed on it and wiped it against his scales. He then placed his monocle over his eye. "I'm a dragon, mate. I have an excellent book on cryptozoology you could borrow if it's too hard f'you to tell."

The voice paused again, longer this time, before "Don't you have anything to say about this? Anything you might want to argue? Complain about? Correct? Criticize?"

Trogdor pondered a bit, then said "Not really. I mean, most blokes can usually tell the difference between dragons and gremlins, but I suppose there are ignorant folks about."

It was hard to tell if the voice paused this time because it was offended, or because it was dumbfounded. "Trogdor, the Burninator…" the voice said "Has gambling debts."

"What ho?" asked Trogdor. "I'm afraid I will have to contradict you there. See, I've never gambled in my life."

"sure you have. That's why you don't have an arm."

"What? Oh, perhaps you've been looking at me the wrong way." Trogdor turned a bit and flexed his muscles. "See? There's me arm."

"No, I mean your other arm!" said the voice with more than a hint of annoyance.

"What other arm?"

"The one you lost to your gambling debts!"

Trogdor pondered again "This is the only arm I've ever 'ad."

"Ugh." the voice sighed "You should have two arms! You only have one!"

"Well, is'not my fault, Strong bad drew me this way." he paused for a bit. "Incidentally," he turned to Strong Bad "why did you draw me with only one arm? Eh?"

"Uuum…"Strong Bad thought hard, not wanting to upset the massive dragon. "It was because of… perspective?"

"Perspective?" asked Trogdor.

"Uh… yeah! 'Cause, they way I drew you… only one arm would be visible. So… you only have… one arm?"

Trogdor sat staring at Strong Bad unblinkingly. Minutes seemed to pass by. Hours seemingly flew over, and still, Trogdor continued to gaze at him. Strong Bad was beginning to feel that he should high tail it out of there. 'Till Trogdor said "Oh, a'right."

"Trogdor, the Burninator…"

"Yes?"

"Plants marigolds outside his home."

"They're more like mums, actually."

"Don't you want to say something like… oh, I don't know… Like, flowers of any kind would be sissy, and dinky, and un-masculine and you wouldn't be caught dead with any of them anywhere near you're dwelling. Or something like that!"

"… No."

"Ugh, rrrr; d'oh. … Trogdor, the Burninator…"

"Oh, this is fun. I quit enjoy this."

"Did, was… he… is… a…… vegetarian?"

"WHAT!" Trogdor rose from his seat, his voice dropped two octaves, his accent dissipated, and clouds of smoke billowed up from his nostrils like two nuclear explosions. The voice, seeing his reaction, began to regain confidence.

"Oh, sure. Lots of veggies! By the truckload! Salads, tofu… mm, mmmm…"

"Stop it!" Trogdor yelled.

"Oh, cwap!" Homestar yelled "He eats tofu? I gotta get outta here!" Homestar made a mad dash to get away, and ran straight into the wall, knocking himself unconscious.

"You better take that vaggo – trash back" Trogdor threatened "Or so help me…"

"Aww, what are you gonna do, huh? Huh? Ya big, oversized rabbit!"

"Oh,… that tears it! BURNINATE! BURNINATE EVERYTHING! DESTROY… ALLLL! G-r-r-roaHH – OOoooaaALLLL!"

Trogdor unleashed a stream of fire directly at the wall to his left. After several seconds of burning, he turned around sharply, so that his tail left a gaping slash mark in the wall. He trampled across the stage, burning as he went, until he reached the opposite wall. He gave a great snarl as he raised his beefy arm, his fist clenched so tight that his muscles appeared to be three times their normal size and his veins popped out so much that they looked as if they had separated from the arm. After a brief second, he plunged his fist into the wall so hard that resonating shockwave took the entire wall down. (Along with a great deal of the ceiling.)

Using the claws on his wings along with his beefy arm, Trogdor began grabbing up all of the rubble and threw them in all directions. When he had enough of that, Trogdor turned his attention to the curtain. He blew a great blast of fire at it, then clamped his jaws around it. Tearing it down, he shook his massive head from side to side – shaking the curtain like a rag – and tossed it into the audience.

"Run for it!" someone yelled at the sight of the flaming cloth descending on them.

Trogdor, upon seeing the fleeing people, gave a loud growl and leapt into the audience. He landed with a crash, and everyone who was fleeing were knocked off of their feet. Trogdor stomped his great feet, and swung his tail about – sending everyone in its path flying into the walls.

The last anyone saw of Trogdor, he had raised his head in a dreadful roar – one last fountain of red erupting from his bowels.

Homestar awoke, yawning and smacking his lips. "That was wefweshing." he said. He looked around at the scene before him; about everyone was recovering from the various injuries they had received. Bubs had his arm in a sling, Strong Bad had a black eye and several scratches, Coach Z was laying face down on the floor and had apparently lost his belt, Pom pom looked shaken up – but otherwise, fine and Marzipans dress was smoking.

Homestar looked around at their surroundings. The walls were all black and crumbling. There were scratch marks all over the walls, floors, and ceiling. The few pieces of splintered lumber that was left of the stage were on fire. And there, amid all the ruin and chaos, Trogdor was placing his cracked monocle back onto his eyebrow.

"I say," he said "someone has gone and a mess. Well, it's been jolly good fun mates," he pulled out a very large pocket watch from somewhere. "but I've an anger management course to get to, and dash it all, I'm late. Cheerio!" he waved goodbye and walked out of the place.

"N-n-n-now you know" said the voice "Trogdor, the Burninator."