A Bad Day on the Death Star

Obi-Wan Kenobi walked into the room and fired up his blue lightsaber. VRMMMMMMMM.

“I see you lit up your saber, Obi-Wan,” said his nemesis, Darth Vader. He revealed his own lightsaber and fired up that bad boy. It was red. VRRRMMMMMM.

“You’ve got your own saber on you, eh? I expected as much, Darth,” said Obi-Wan. He produced a second lightsaber and fired that bad boy right up. VRRRMMMM.

Vader shook his head. “What a fool you are to think I would let you out-saber me, old man.” With his free hand he reached into the recesses of his cape and brought out another lightsaber. He clicked it on. VVVVVRRMMMM.

“Yikes,” said Obi-Wan, dryly. “Two lightsabers? Oh, whatever will I–” VVVVRRRM… it was a third saber. He swung them all around like Sammo Hung.

“Impressive,” said Vader, “but check this out.” He held his two sabers in his left hand, and with his right he brought out a 20-inch BMX bike from around the corner. He hopped on and started pedaling around in circles, no hands, while he swished the sabers back and forth.

“I see,” said Obi-Wan. He pursed his lips all Robert De Niro-ish, like, “Okay, okay, all right.” Then with a devilish grin he beckoned with his head, and a dirty kid, a mere ragamuffin, walked into the room and fired up two more bad boys. VVVVRRMMMM, VVRRRRRRM. “Did I do good, Grandpa?” asked the kid. “SHUT UP,” barked Obi-Wan.

“Hmm. I thought you might try something like this,” said Vader, “so I prepared a contingency.” He whistled through his cool chinless helmet, and suddenly the ragamuffin walked over to where Vader was wheelying on his Huffy and faced Kenobi with the sabers. “Sorry, Grandpa,” said the kid, sheepishly. Vader laughed. “As I see it, my former master, that’s four lightsabers against three.”

“Justin, you dick!” said Obi-Wan. He looked majorly peeved. He crouched, ready to charge. “Break yourself!” he said, and the legendary battle began.

 

* * * * * * * *

 

As officers cordoned off the area, the police detective took off his fedora and scratched his balding head, bewildered. The scene was one of blood and guts. An old man, a big black robot, a sweet Huffy, and a kid, all hacked to pieces. They didn’t pay him enough for this.

“So you just found them like this?” he asked Emperor Palpatine, who stood at his side.

“Yeah, it was nuts. I come out of the john and they were just whaling on each other with those bad boys. I was all, ‘Hey!’ but by then it was too late.”

“Wowzers,” said the detective. “Man alive, the paperwork on this baby…”

“YOUR paperwork?” said the Emperor. “My insurance is gonna go through the roof!”

There was a pregnant silence. Then, after a few moments, the detective chuckled. “Well, at moments like these, you know what helps me cool off? A crisp, ice-cold Pepsi.” With that, he produced a frosty can of the stuff from his trench coat and offered it to the Emperor.

Palpatine looked at the can warily for a second, then relaxed. “What the heck. I could use some refreshment!” He popped that bad boy open and chugged. Ahhh. Life was good.

 

Brought to you by Pepsi. The Joy of Pepsi-Cola.

About Zack Newkirk

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