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Strong Bad had been at a loss for a party theme. He wracked his brains. He asked himself the classic WWSCD (What Would Senor Cardgage Do?). No matter how he strained, he couldn't think of anything great enough to top the Entrapment All Up On the Moon dance he'd crashed back in Free Country, USA. Then, one afternoon, musing on this problem and trying to steal a box of Atari games from the Muggle Studies classroom at the same time, he dropped the box of games on his foot and swore "FHQWHGADS!"

And that was his Eureka moment. Of course! Fhqwhgads was the answer! Fhqwhgads was actually at Hogwarts -- Strong Bad had seen him! -- and if anything could lure fhqwhgads out of hiding, it would be a party with all his favorite trimmings. Plus, that would take care of the pesky party-theming problem. Congratulating himself, Strong Bad went to discuss his requirements with the house elves.

Meanwhile, his co-host, Tyrion Lannister, had been hard at work trying to procure a flock of Hooters girls to serve and entertain at the party. Unfortunately, no one in Hogsmeade seemed to have heard of Hooters. When Tyrion inquired about alternative arrangements to hire girls, the proprietress of the Three Broomsticks passed him a binder full of pictures of lovelorn hags. A wizarding dating service? At any rate, no live entertainment was forthcoming, thus far.

In the end, the party bore very little of the Lannister stamp. Anyone arriving at the Great Hall would find the door flanked by portraits of persons likely unknown in the wizarding community. If asked, Strong Bad would only explain them as "my friend Joe" and "my friend Jake." Addressing one of these portraits would get you into the hall, no matter what you said to them. It would also cause wiffleballs to appear in front of their mouths.

Inside the hall, more wiffleballs were the order of the day. There were giant disco lights in the shape of wiffleballs, with lights beaming from the wiffleball holes. There were nets suspended from the walls in which gaggles of wiffleballs were cradled. Should one of those nets break, the results might not be pretty.

By the door was a flashy cardboard robot and a bin of T-shirts reading "To The Limit", for this was the party's theme. A large banner proclaimed:

EVERYBODY TO THE LIMIT!

Strong Bad's party would definitely be to the limit. Even more so since he'd rented a karaoke machine, and a couple of interesting dry ice machines from what he took to be the local equivalent of Bubs's but was in fact a joke shop. One of the dry ice machines was pumping out a vaporised truth potion; the other, a vaporised love potion. Fortunately, they weren't very high-quality or large machines, and the mist generated by each was limited to a small area around the machine. However, anyone straying into the vicinity of either machine would find themselves acting a bit peculiar ...

Satisfied with his handiwork, or rather that of the house-elves working under his direction, Strong Bad sat back with some of the fine liquor Tyrion had furnished for the party, and waited for his fellow students to arrive.