On board the Video Star, Badurong's most important broadcasting center/TV Studio/Spaceship, it was garbage day. This meant Spandez's two most trusted lieutenants, Loot (a monster that seemed to be equal parts "Pirate" and "Chainsaw") and Pillage (one that was equal parts "Viking" and "Zippo"), were hard at work trying to figure out the best way to lighten their load. As usual, it was to tightly pack the ship's waste into a series of iron garbage cans and fire them through the ship's railgun. It got the boss of their back, got the ship smelling better, and required minimum effort.

"Avast, thar, Pillage, I find that I be thinkin' 'bout somethin'."

"Und hwhat would that be, bruder Pillage?"

"Ya ever feel like... yer bein' watched?"

"Hwell, hwe are on der television. Have our own segment on the show!"

"Oh yar. That'd explain it."

Loot began fiddling with the targeting, pointing the crosshairs straight at the nearby sun. An easy way to dispose of garbage, environmentally friendly (provided there wasn't any Solar Fuel in the trash, but that wasn't likely), and low-effort.

"What's th' planet's gravity again? We should probably account fer that before firin' th' railgun."

"...Crap, Loot, that's the byoss! Foorget about der corrections and fire!"

Fearing the lashing (either from his tongue or from his microphone-whip) Spandez might give them, Loot slammed the "fire" command on the console. With the loud spinup and electric whine of a magnetic pulse, the garbage cans were launched, caught by the Earth's gravity well almost instantly. Spandez nodded approvingly as he approached, noting their clever use of the railgun.

"Very nice, boys. Working smarter AND harder. You guys remembered to correct for gravity, right?

Loot and Pillage looked at each other before responding in unison.

"Aye."
"Ja."

===

Jump City. Population: Spandez does not care. Primary exports: Spandez also does not care. A sporty red car sped along. Miles above in the atmosphere, however, glowing red embers of molten iron and partially-combusted garbage streaked down with the force of a large ballistic missile. The molten blobs rained down on a certain red Ferrari, filling Bolt's ride with holes, rendering the engine useless and igniting the upholstery. This was before a mostly-intact garbage can fell, impacting with the force of a bunker buster and leaving the road just before the car a smouldering semi-molten crater.