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| - | :'''STRONG BAD:''' ''{singing}'' I don't know but I've been told, E-mail's best when it don't scroll!
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| - | <blockquote class="lappy email">
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| - | <div>Dumbest Law</div>
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| - | Hey Strong Bad!<br/>
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| - | What's the dumbest law the King of Town has ever passed?<br>
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| - | Dont you think youd be a better ruler than the King of<br>
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| - | Town?<br>
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| - | Your pal, Roy T. Castle Hill.
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| - | </blockquote>
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| - | :''{Strong Bad pronounces "dont" as dahnt and "youd" as ya-ood}''
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| - | :'''STRONG BAD:''' Well, Roytee, it goes without saying that I'd be a better ruler than the King of Town. ''{clears screen}'' But seriously, who wants that job? Stuck in a castle all day, stuck making dumb laws, probably stuck in the bathtub... no thanks, man. ''{cut to over the shoulder shot of Strong Bad}'' And the King of Town's mostly harmless. Sure he's stupid looking, ''{cut to drawing of the King of Town on a sheet of notebook paper, his Dumb Crown, Cheesy Beard, Stupid Red Robe and Fatness are labelled}'' as this scientific diagram illustrates, but he stays out of my business, and that lazy faire approach to government is a welcome alternative. ''{Strong Bad looks at the camera}'' Ooh, I think I'd like to the lazy fair.
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| - | :'''THE KING OF TOWN:''' ''{standing in the doorway, theme music begins to play}'' Aha! Caught you red gloved-ed.
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| - | :'''STRONG BAD:''' The King of Town?! How'd ''you'' get in here?
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| - | :'''THE KING OF TOWN:''' In flagrant disregard of my new e-mail tax, eh? One Creamy Ding snack cake for every e-mail sent or received!
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| - | :'''STRONG BAD:''' ''{cut to Strong Bad}'' E-mail tax?! ''{zoom in}'' Flagrant?! ''{zoom in}'' Creamy ... ''{zoom in}'' Ding?!
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| - | :'''THE KING OF TOWN:''' Oh, so you refuse to pay? Poopsmith, administer the collar of obedience!
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| - | :''{The Poopsmith climbs in through the window, wearing the municipality armor and clubs Strong Bad off of Stooly to the floor}''
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| - | :'''STRONG BAD:''' What are you doing?! Hey, cut that out! ''{overlapping}'' Ow! My freedom!
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| - | :'''THE KING OF TOWN:''' You are under house arrest. You have the right to bribe me. ''{cut to Strong Bad, who is now wearing a metal collar with a flashing red light}'' Anything you offer will be eaten by me whether cooked or raw. ''{cut to exterior shot of front door, showing a pulsating electronic security gate, bearing matching lights to Strong Bad's collar}'' Try walking past that fence downstairs, and ''blammo''! Hope you weren't attached to that head. And one more thing, ''{The King of Town takes and eats Strong Bad's map from the previous game}''
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| - | :'''STRONG BAD:''' My map! I need that!
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| - | :'''THE KING OF TOWN:''' This'll make sure you stay put until you can pay up! Now let's ride, Poopsmith! Gotta go collect on my new Pour-a-Bag-of-Jellybeans-Down-My-Gullet tax! ''{The King of Town exits. The Poopsmith follows, crouching behind his shield and walking backwards out of the room}''
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| - | :'''STRONG BAD:''' House arrest? Aw man, this is the worse thing to happen to my style in a long line of bad things happening to my style. I gotta find a way outta here, and give that uncharacteristically oppresive King of Town a serious mustahce pounding.
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