Blargofeld

Commander Blargofeld snarled, his deep voice filled with rich, ample acres of metaphorical hate. "This is enough," he said, at first softly, then louder: "This is ENOUGH!" He swept a crystal goblet onto the floor, breaking it into a thousand glittering shards. "This... so-called 'Colonel Blizzelsharts' has irritated my mucous membranes for entirely too long. Tonight - we strike!"

That night, they struck!

"Aaargh!" screamed Colonel Blizzelsharts, prostrate upon the blood-stained earth, Blagofeld's jack-boot firmly upon his neck. "Aaargh! Aaargh!"

"Do you have anything useful to say before I end your pathetic life?" Blagofeld asked, with a certain degree of condescension.

"Ha-ha!" Blizzelsharts cried, pointing behind Blagofeld. "Look!"

Blagofeld looked - then he felt something hook about his ankles. He fell!

"A trick!" Blagofeld roared. "You'll pay for this, Blizzelsharts! When I catch up to you, you'll rue the day you were ever born! You'll scream and beg and plead for mercy! Blood will run from your every orifice, and your organs will be twisted into pretzels - and then I'll feed you them! Through the wrong orifices! Or both! Yes! At once! AHAHAHAHAHA!"

Then the unicorn cavalry trampled him.

Just as well. What a very rude fellow he was!

(Later, they stole his jackboots.)