Other Character Email Trogador/best email ever

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The New Trogador

Episode 023: Best Email Ever
Trogador goes on a journey of self-realization (again?) that can only end in death. Meanwhile, in 20X8, Clyde reveals some shocking secrets in an attempt to leave prison.

Transcript

{cut to black screen that says "IN A.D 30X8". The screen then changes it's text it to "A DRAGON DID NOTHING PRETTY MUCH DON'T YOU LOVE DAYS LIKE THAT ANYWAYS THE DRAGON 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....}

{cut to Trogador sitting in The Living Room, 30X8.}

TROGADOR: I sure could use something to do!

{A ding noise is heard.}

TROGADOR: That is very convenient!

{Trogador takes out the TrogPilot.}

{Trogador reads the email cheerily at first but by the second line descends into a taking-offense tone.}

TROGADOR: Listen here, Bob, I hardly think I'm lame. I'm practically a demigod! I could destroy you if I felt compelled! And you, you're the lame one! You have a generic name, and it's not even capitalized! So in closing, Robert, shut up and don't bug me with your stupid hatemail again.

{Clyde wanders up.}

CLYDE: I dunno, Trog, I think you're pretty lame.

TROGADOR: And why's that?

CLYDE: C'mon, man, you're what, 550 almost? And you're still here? Doesn't that make you the equivalent of like 110 for a human?

TROGADOR: I have no idea, Clyde, and you know it's not-

CLYDE: Whatever, lame-brain. You know that every inch of your body is covered with lame.

{Clyde wanders back off. Xerador walks in.}

TROGADOR: Hey, Xer, can I ask you a question?

XERADOR: Don't order seconds, do you hear me?

TROGADOR: Well...okay, but that's not what I was asking.

XERADOR: Oh. Well, don't order seconds! You'll regret it!

TROGADOR: Listen, Xer. Am I lame?

XERADOR: You? Lame? Of course not!

TROGADOR: Thanks, Xer, that means a lot to-

XERADOR: That was sarcasm.

TROGADOR: Oh. Well. That's...unfortunate. Why am I lame?

XERADOR: I think you know the answer. It's lying deep within you. Maybe you just need somebody to dig it out for you.

TROGADOR: You mean like a guy with a shovel?

XERADOR: No, no, therapy. I know a guy. I'll drop you off there.

{cut to Clyde in his prison cell, 20X8. He is standing by the bars.}

CLYDE: Hey, where's that Dolph jerk that arrested me! He says I assaulted him, but it was in return! I call police brutality! I was helping my friend Bubs move stuff, he was out of town, and Dan comes in, shooting and trying to take me down! He was drunk, too, I oculd smell the whiskey on his breath as he beat me with a nightstick!

{The camera pans back to show Natador standing there.}

NATADOR: That's right man, fight the man!

{The camera pans over to another cell, showing a black Gaspeau standing by the bars.}

DAVE: {the black Gaspeau, and by the way he talks like he likes THE METAL} Yeah man, I hear ya! These fuzzballs, they don't understand guys like us. They're afraid of us. And when man is afraid, man fights!

{The camera pans over to show Nick behind Dave.}

NICK: Hey, prettyboy. You ever seen a dead body?

{cut to a therapist's office, 30X8. Trogador walks through the door.}

TROGADOR: Hello, doc, I'm here for the-Tampo?

{The camera pans over to show Tampo sitting in a chair next to the couch, holding a pen and paper.}

TAMPO: Yes, Trogador, what is it?

TROGADOR: You're out of prison already? And you're a therapist?

TAMPO: Yes, I'm a therapist. After that stupid superhero stole my villain gig, we all had to get jobs.

{cut to a car showroom. Stlunko stands next to a car, wearing a sparkling blue dress. Brody walks up, wearing a cheap purple salesman outfit.}

STLUNKO: Do I have to keep on doing this?

BRODY: Yes! Now shake those fists, we want to attract customers, not scare 'em away!

{Stlunko sighs and begins towave his fists.}

BRODY: Yeah. You better.

{cut back to the therapist's office. Trogador is laying down on the couch.}

TAMPO: Tell me a little bit about yourself.

TROGADOR: Well, I'm a 548 year old Ador dragon, so I'm approaching the big five-five-oh. I like pina coladas, long walks in the rain, and cliches. I run a small independant show where I answer emails, and one of them recently said I was lame. I didn't think so, but my housemates agree. Aside from my age, I can't find anything lame about me.

TAMPO: {snorts} Are you serious?

TROGADOR: What kind of question is that?

TAMPO: Do you seriously not see why?

TROGADOR: Yes, I am serious!

TAMPO: Get out of my office, I don't tolerate idiocy.

{Trogador gets up and walks over to the doorway.}

TROGADOR: I'm not recommending you to my emotionally disabled friends!

TAMPO: Good, I don't like crazies either!

{Trogador slams the door. Cut to an interrogation room, 30X8. Clyde sits on one side of a table with Adolf on the other side.}

ADOLF: Alright, buddy. We just want a confession.

CLYDE: What am I supposed to confess to? Trying to kill you? You have the scars to prove it, you son of a-

ADOLF: Hey, hey, none of that. Let's keep the insults for bad cop, Officer Loose Cannon.

{The camera pans behind Adolf to show Officer Loose Cannon, a Poorbt wearing a similar uniform to that of Adolf's.}

OFFICER LOOSE CANNON: I'm not that loose...really!

{cut to a room right next to this one. Kray, John, Drew, and Master Z are watching the interrogation through a two-way mirror.}

KRAY: You know, ah never thought Clyde'd be the first of us ta get 'rested.

JOHN: Please, like you've never been arrested? I've been arrested.

DREW: I actually belonged to a prison gang once.

MASTER Z: I tend to have my second-in-command take the blame for me, actually.

{cut to inside the interrogation room.}

ADOLF: Listen, Mr. Clempincobb. All we ask is for a confession.

CLYDE: Alright, I have it somewhere in here.

{Clyde takes out a piece of paper and reading glasses. He clears his throat.}

CLYDE: Let's see, me and Trogador burned down a building a few times, Kray leaves the seat up, John pretends to be poor to get money, Drew's cheating on his diet, and Master Z not only is a terrorist responsible for assembling the Boss Organization, but he also used Trogador's absence to try and find the engine room of his house with the hopes of captaining it and probably blowing it up in a struggle.

ADOLF: Hmm...cheating on a diet, you say?

{cut to the two-way-mirror room. Everybody is looking at Master Z, mouths open in shock.}

MASTER Z: Now, eheh, gentleman, it's not what it sounds like...

DREW: I thought I could trust you, Z.

JOHN: Is that even your real name, "Z"?

{cut to Trogador in the Living Room, 30X8.}

TROGADOR: If nobody can give me a legitimate reason for being lame-

CLYDE: {offscreen} Besides your pathetic age!

TROGADOR: -besides that, then I guess I'm not very lame at all! Now, time to get a proper email done.

{Trogador takes out the TrogPilot.}

TROGADOR: Not lame email being answered by a not lame guy!

{Trogador reads the email in a cheery tone, but reverts to the offended tone as soon as he reads "I hate you". He continues reading the email, getting more and more horrified the farther he goes.}

TROGADOR: Well, Not a Jaro, you...you're just...you're the lame one, stupidhead! At least I can trust my viewers, like the Jaro community!

{cut to a different living room. A Jaro stands next to a couch. A banner is hung on the wall that says "The Jaro Community". A TV is in the foreground.}

JARO: Yeah, no, we Jaros aren't very big fans of Trogador. In fact he's seen as a villain to us.

TROGADOR: What? Why am I-er, Trogador a villain to the Jaros?

JARO: This was the last comedy special ever produced, and was littered with a hateful, anti-Jarotic message.

{The Jaro takes out a remote and clicks it.}

TROGADOR: {coming from TV} ...silver Jaros hop vertically, black Jaros hop forward!

{The Jaro clicks the remote again.}

TROGADOR: Oh, come on! Can't you guys take a joke?

JARO: Racism is no laughing matter, sir.

TROGADOR: Oh my Winner. This is why I never liked you filthy hoppers-

{The Jaro gasps.}

JARO: Get out of here before I make security burn you to the ground.

{Trogador leaves, mumbling.}

JARO: Filthy racist.

{cut to Trogador sitting down in the Living Room, visibly distressed. Clyde shuffles up to him.}

CLYDE: What's up, Trog?

TROGADOR: {sighs} Nobody likes me. Everybody thinks I'm lame.

CLYDE: Well, you are lame.

TROGADOR: I guess you're right, Clyde. I am lame.

CLYDE: Would you say you have nothing left to live for?

TROGADOR: {sighs} I guess.

CLYDE: Well, then I have a game for you!

{cut to Trogador standing on a high ledge. Clyde is next to him.}

TROGADOR: So...on 3, we jump?

CLYDE: Yep! Really simple and old fashioned, but sometimes those are the best games to play.

TROGADOR: Alright, I'm ready.

CLYDE: Okay...one...two...three.

{Trogador jumps off and Clyde doesn't. Cut to Trogador falling next to the building.}

TROGADOR: Hey, wait, this situation is very familiar...{looks at camera} I'm always doing the same things! {looks back} Not this time, no sir. I will not fall to my death, land on a future friend, or go to the hospital for two emails! I'll use my wings this time!

{Trogador flies forward, right into a skyscraper.}

TROGADOR: {garbled} That wasn't a good idea.

{cut to Clyde sitting in a library, laughing.}

CLYDE: Ha ha ha, that situation sure was wacky and funny. Don't worry kids, our pal Trogador is alright. But suicide is no laughing matter. It is a nervous chuckling matter. So before you laugh heartily at a good old fashioned suicide, stop. There might be some PC lunatic in the room ready to give you a rant. And in closing...

{Clyde is somehow as close to the camera as he can be. His eyes are red and the pupils are skulls.}

CLYDE: EMAIL 23 AHHHHHHHHH

THE END!

Fun Facts

  • This email, "best email ever", is email 23. Nebulon's 23rd email was titled "worst email ever".
  • Brody and Stlunko's jobs were partly Bluebry's idea.
  • Escape is a song by Rupert Holmes that is often used in situations like the one used in this email. Yep.
  • Officer Loose Cannon is named after the concept of a loose cannon cop.
  • 23
Other Character Email Trogador

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