[dogscoff]

Dogscoff leans back in his executive leather chair, enjoying the amazing panoramic view from his office on the top floor of the monolithic Tigg-scoff breweries office building. In the distance, he can just about make out the Cantina beneath the network of missile trails and plumes of smoke. He asks his personal assistant (an ex-fluffy bunny waitress, now more profitably employed and attired in a classic sexy- secretary suit.) for some binoculars, and she smiles seductively as she hands them to him.

With the binoculars Dogscoff can more clearly see the carnage going on in the cantina. There appears to some very heavy weaponry in use, and a swarm of what look like dinosaurs runing amok. "That building can't take much more of this kind of abuse" he thinks to himself, as he sips his whisky. With his new executive lifestyle, Dogscoff considers that it's time to move on to a classier drinking establishment, or at the very least level this one and rebuild it, preferably out of something designed to withstand a direct nuclear strike.

His finger hovers over the controls to the orbital weapons satelite, which even now is moving into position above the cantina, eager to unleash it's awesome payload. His personal assistant pauses from her latest duty to look imploringly up into his eyes, but to no avail. He presses the button marked "Kerboom!", and closes the office blinds.