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 Suggested Audio Jukebox:

[1] Fu Manchu Evil Eye

[2] Boy Meets Girl Waiting For A Star To Fall

[3] Madonna Like A Virgin

[4] Dirt Monkey Imperial March (Dubstep Remix)

[5] Madonna Papa Don’t Preach

[6] Duran Duran The Reflex

 

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Battles between good and evil don’t come much more ultimate than this. The time is almost upon us Grueheads, in just a handful of minutes I shall be coming face to face with arguably the most fearful Sith Lord in the galaxy. He goes by the name of Darth Vader and he has been a constant thorn in the side of the Rebel Alliance for many years now. Plenty have tried to overthrow this blackened general and all have failed miserably. This makes me either very brave or incredibly stupid for taking him on and I’m fairly convinced that public opinion would sway towards the latter. You see, until recently, I hadn’t the vaguest idea how to harness the force and, even now, I’m not overly confident at wielding my light saber. I mean, turning it on doesn’t exactly take a degree in Astro Physics but that’s about as far as my prowess goes I’m afraid. Last night, I decided to get some practice in before the big fight and this is how it turned out.

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You tell me – was I short-changed or what? Call me incredulous but I’d say my light saber is far from industry standard. Nevertheless, there’s dirty work afoot and someone has to do it. Should I fail in my mission, then the repercussions will be unthinkable and the Rebel Alliance will surely crumble. No pressure then. Currently I have around ten minutes until Darth’s arrival and it is imperative that I spend that time wisely. Thus, after careful consideration, I have taken the executive decision that one last pep talk is in order. Would’ve asked Yoda but he has his own problems to worry about.

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You see, for his 900th birthday, a few of his fellow Jedi have decided to treat him to a long weekend at Universal Studios and the whole minimum height issue is apparently causing him some concern. Last I heard, he was arguing the toss over whether or not he should be permitted on The Simpsons Ride and there is nothing more unbecoming than small man syndrome in such situations. You can hardly blame him for being a dash disgruntled, after all, his pea green balls have been around longer than Ronnie Wood and are every bit as weathered. However, rules being rules, hundreds of years of experience in the field count for diddly-squat.

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So with Yoda out of the equation, my next thought was Obi-Wan Kenobi. An old adversary of Vader’s, Ben would surely have a few pointers as to the dark general’s Achilles heel or so you would think anyhoots. Turns out that he took his last defeat rather hard and has decided to wash his hands of the Rebel Alliance after years of dedicated service. I text him three hours ago and do you know what I got back in return? This. “Who’s the more foolish, the fool or the fool who follows him?” Talk about fucking cryptic, what am I supposed to do with that shit? I’m not sure whether he’s having a dig or politely wimping out. Either way, that’s a fat lot of good to me in my current plight and I have to admit that I expected a little more from one so enlightened as he. I get that he is likely still licking his wounds after being cut down to size by his mortal enemy but we learn more from defeat than victory right? Negative in Obi-Wan’s case, we spend the next thirty years in a Tatoiine tittie bar, drinking ourselves into oblivion apparently.

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Chewbacca certainly has the very best of intentions. However, words of wisdom aren’t his strong suit, and do you know what his advice was? “Raarrwwrararrrrrrrrr!” Gee, thanks Chewie. Whatever would I have done without you? I’m sure there are plenty of wookies who would be positively inspired by your rousing eleventh hour battle cry but I just entered it into Google Translator and it roughly translates to “my belly needs scratching”. No wonder Han Solo considers him such a freeloader.

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I simply don’t have the time to toss him a stick or follow him around with a bag over my hand, tidying up after him so as to avoid an intergalactic littering fine. Granted, I do kind of dig the way he nuzzles my groin, but that doesn’t help me a great deal in my current predicament. At the very most, I could request he “sick balls!” but Vader’s cod piece is titanium and unlikely to buckle under the duress of a sound slathering. Sorry Chewie, but you’re about as much use to me as an inflatable dartboard and, therefore, can continue to play dead for all I care.

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Meanwhile, the next time I see Luke Skywalker, I’m going to kick his lily-white ass for being so utterly spineless in the face of adversity. The Death Star doesn’t destroy itself but he’s too predisposed sniffing the contents of Leia’s underwear drawer to put in anything resembling a shift. Word to the wise kid, she’s your sister. Moreover, there are only two available outcomes to your immature crush: either A) your constant whining wears down her defenses and she grants you a sympathy fuck, resulting in deformed offspring or B) the chloroform approach wears down her defenses and she grants you a sympathy fuck, resulting in deformed offspring. Either way, your kids are going to be as ugly as sin. Indeed, if your old man is anything to go by, then you’ll invariably end up turning to the dark side eventually and that makes you a liability in my book son. Tell you what, you keep on working on that chest hair, and I’ll save the Rebel Alliance from the threat of expulsion. No wonder your father despairs so.

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As for Leia, well I’m not about to bust her boobs as she happens to make a pretty tidy cheerleader. While that may not appear the key to emerging triumphant from this upcoming skirmish, it can’t hurt to have her waving her pom-poms on the sidelines. I’ve even selected an outfit for her. You fancy a quick look-see? Fine but I’m calling dibs on a post-match pounding.

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Well that has me all perked up. Come to think of it, I suspect I may have been a little hard on Luke after all you know. I mean, imagine sharing a paddling pool with that little cock tease. Incest suddenly doesn’t seem quite so nefarious. Of course, her heart belongs to Han Solo, and I’m not about to stand in the way of what is meant to be. However, if he has first refusal on her aortic valve, then that still leaves her garbage chute up for grabs right? Should I manage to overcome Vader, then I plan to be all up in her trash compactor before she can say “that’s the wrong hole Jedi”.

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Speaking of Han Solo, he happens to have his uses too. You see, he kindly agreed to transport me to my current coordinates courtesy of his Millennium Falcon and saved me the rigmarole of public transport so I’m somewhat in his debt for that. Regrettably, things didn’t end well for my chaperone and he is currently compacted in dense ice and out of commission for the foreseeable. I have every intention of thawing him out once I banish the tyrannical Darth Vader but only so I can pilfer his waistcoat. Chewbacca is besides himself with worry right now and could only muster “Raarrwwrararrrrrrrrr!” in response to his owner being refrigerated, which roughly translates to “my belly needs scratching”. Someone really ought to teach that old dog some new tricks. Anyhoots, Han Solo is no good to me in his current condition, thus the search for last-minute inspiration continues.

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Don’t even get me started on R2-D2. While Chewie is hardly the most literate of allies, this jumped-up trash can is borderline interpretable. Even Google Translator couldn’t shed any light this time as his line of techno gibberish is yet to have been deciphered. At best, he’s a reasonably functional drinks dispenser although I did explicitly request full fat Coca-Cola and all he coughed up was Diet. Now allow me to make one thing crystal clear R2: Diet Coke tastes of armpits and, while it may claim on the can to offer a healthy equivalent to its all singing and dancing cousin, we all know that’s a crock of shit. 330 ml later and I still have gut rot to contend with. Moreover, my tongue isn’t fond of antiperspirant.

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One simple request and you balls it up royally, no wonder C-3PO despairs of your inefficiency. Speaking of which, I’m pretty much all out of rebels to lean on, so I guess that just leaves the campest protocol droid ever to wiggle his child-bearing hips from the assembly line. It’s you and me C-3PO. If you have any stimulating words of wisdom, then now would be the time to impart them. Matter of fact, here he is now, looking just as effeminate as ever.

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“Yo C-P30. How’s it hanging?”

“A simple how do you do would have sufficed. Do you have to be so crass?”

“Apologies. How goes it?”

“Dreadful actually. You see, I’m all in a pickle”

“Tell me about it. So what’s your bother then?”

“It’s that R2-D2 chap”

“Not a fan of Diet Coke either huh?”

“I don’t follow you”

“Don’t worry about it. So what has he done now then?”

“Well, I’m not sure I know where to start”

“I have around four minutes so how about the condensed version”

“Okay. Well my comlink is down and he is supposed to be responsible for my weekly maintenance but won’t do a solitary thing I ask of him. Repair is supposedly his primary objective but I’ve been waiting all day for him to provide my flash stick with a thorough defrag”

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“Can’t get the staff can you?”

“Indeed you can’t. I don’t know why I keep him around. It’s because of his incompetence that I have this thumping migraine”

“I feel for you C-3PO. Really I do. But there happen to be more pressing concerns right now than getting blown by the hired help”

“I get it. My problems aren’t a priority are they? No need to feel bad, I’m used to it by now. Good old reliable C-3PO can take the weight of the world on his shoulders, I get it. Don’t worry about me, I’ll just soldier through the constant disappointment like a good droid. I’m telling you, I’m starting to feel rather unappreciated around here”

“Look, if you scratch my back, I’ll see to it that your comlink is regulated. How does that sound?”

“Why I should stick my neck out for you is far beyond my capacity! I would much rather have gone with Master Luke than stay here with you. I don’t know what all this trouble is about, but I’m sure it must be your fault”

“Actually it isn’t. I’m just as crestfallen as you right now. You see, any minute now, Darth Vader will be putting in a shift and it has been left up to me to ensure the future of our galaxy”

“Oh dear!”

“Got your attention now?”

“No, I just realized that I missed the start of the Sex & The City marathon on HBO”

“Can you just focus for one minute please?”

“That’s easy for you to say. I’m already woefully behind and seem predestined to bring up the rear”

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“Listen you pathetic pansy, if you don’t start pulling your weight, I’ll make it my life’s work to see that you wind up on the scrap heap. Capiche?”

“Well that was uncalled for. Now you’ve hurt my feelings. Tell me, do you get a kick out of making sensitive robots cry?”

“You have no tear ducts!”

“I’m sobbing on the inside”

“I knew it. This was a ridiculous idea, whatever possessed me to count on you for support?”

“If you ask me nicely, maybe I’ll see fit to help you”

“Okay then. Please C-3PO, enlighten me as to what I should do in my current predicament”

“Well for starters, you should never wear blue and green together. It’s a big fashion no-no”

“That’s it. I’m done”

“Wait. Okay, it just so happens I know a little about Lord Vader’s weaknesses”

“Finally”

“He suffers from a long-running repetitive strain injury from all that light saber wielding. His left arm I believe”

“Gotcha. Anything else?”

“Yes. I happen to know that he absolutely despises Duran Duran. Cannot bear them”

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“Duran Duran? How could he?”

“I know right? Three minutes of The Reflex and you’ll have him on his knees”

“Don’t suppose you happen to have any backed up on your hard drive do you?”

“As a matter of fact I do. Here, I shall transfer the MP3”

“That’s not my USB port bucko”

“My apologies. Tell you what, I’ll email you the file”

“Well I never thought I’d be saying this but thank you”

“Pleased I could be of assistance. That’s why I was commissioned you know, to assist everyone else whilst steadily corroding. Not that anyone cares about me. I’m just a protocol droid, totally replaceable, and of no great importance. Never mind me, I’ll just carry on crying internally until the inevitable full system shutdown occurs”

“I told you I’d fix your comlink when this is all over and I’m a man of my word”

“Of course you will. And I suppose you’ll service me too right? Do you know how long it has been since anyone lubricated my joints?”

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“Here’s some WD-40. Knock yourself out”

“Not even a back rub?”

“Fate of the galaxy hanging in the balance and all that”

“How foolish of me to believe I would be your priority. Well you can keep your WD-40 and, while you’re at it, I hope you feel positively wretched for making me feel cheap and used. You’re just like all the others you know”

“Uh huh. Has anyone ever told you you’re a drama queen?”

“That’s it. Kick a droid when he’s down. While you’re at it, why not upload a computer virus and further obliterate my firewall. Norton Antivirus doesn’t come cheap you know”

“Goodbye C-3PO”

“Bite me you big butch browbeater”

Heavens above, all that for a simple dash of intelligence. Now I have a migraine of my own to contend with and, in just a few short moments, will have an unruly Sith Lord to battle to the death. What next? Oh great, here comes Chewbacca.

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“”Raarrwwrararrrrrrrrr!”

“Fuck off you mangy mongrel. Get some other poor bastard to scratch your belly”

Can I not shit a break? I mean, clearly the force is in this one but I haven’t the faintest inkling as to how it can be facilitated. Instead, I’m banking on Duran Duran and arm cramps to fend off my nemesis. Suddenly Obi-Wan’s insistence that he is done with front-line duties make sense to me. How Yoda put up with this shit for 900 years is beyond me. The first thing I’m doing after all this is to procure myself a plot in a quaint little distant swamp light years away from civilization and leave nobody a forwarding address. What’s good for Yoda right? First things first, my adversary has finally decided to show his blackened grill. Either that or the heavy breathing I discern is Chewie about to hump my left calf. Nope, it’s Vader, right on cue.

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“Well look what the cat dragged in”

“We meet again at last. The circle is now complete”

“Actually, I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen you before. Not the kind of face one tends to forget”

“Please enlighten me Jedi, what is your purpose here?”

“To defeat you and restore our galaxy to its previous state of well-being”

“And how do you propose to achieve this optimistic goal? The force?”

“Nah, I reckon that’s just a load of mumbo jumbo”

“I find your lack of faith disturbing”

“I find your lack of breath mints similarly disturbing”

“Go ahead. Get all those insults out of your system before I prise you open like the petulant pus pimple that you are”

“You’ll do no such thing Vader”

“You underestimate my power!”

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“I’m quaking in my boots Darth. Suppose you’re going to use the dark side to obliterate me”

“You don’t know the power of the dark side”

“If you ask me, it’s all poppycock. You see, I’ve met your type before. Back in school, bozos like you would take great pleasure in hoisting my underwear into my ass crack and robbing me of my lunch funds. You’re no different from them, beneath that blackened visor you’re little more than a mean-spirited bully”

“I have brought peace, freedom, justice, and security to my new empire!”

“No you haven’t. You’ve bought pain, suffering, and all manner of psychological trauma that will likely result in inferiority complexes further on down the line”

“Tell me you’re not ever so slightly seduced by the dark side”

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“Okay, you got me. I happen to be rather partial to scoffing at the misfortune of others. But I wish no harm on anyone”

“You’re intrigued by evil. It fires your pistons. I can read your thoughts you know”

“Then what am I thinking right now?”

“That you are overdue for your daily dose of self-defillation”

“Lucky guess. What about now?”

“You’re wondering if Princess Leia can touch her toes with six inches of purple gammon in her colon”

“Best out of five?”

“How about we forego this horseplay and get down to the real reason you called me here”

“Please enlighten me as you seem to have a pretty good handle on my head space”

“You wish to give yourself to the dark side. Yes, your thoughts betray you”

“I can assure you that I have no intention of signing up for your ropy organization”

“I see. Well I’m not sure you’ll see things the same way once I inform you of your true bloodline”

“Do your worst Vader. What is it? I’m the third Jonas brother? Pull the other one”

“Not even close”

“I’m 25% Hindu?”

“Wrong again”

“This is all getting rather tiresome”

“I am your father”

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“Get the fuck out of here”

“I have the DNA test results right here. You wanna look?”

“No thanks. I happen to know the precise nut sack I gestated within and have fond recollections as my time as a sperm so I’m calling your bluff”

“Join me, and together, we can rule the galaxy as father and son!”

“Alright then pops, if you are who you claim to be, what age did I cease wetting my bed?”

“You didn’t”

“That’s where you’re wrong. You see, I was around seven when I mastered the act of the midnight dash”

“Then why is your bed linen constantly at the laundromat?”

“If you know me that well, then the answer should be as plain as day Darth”

“So I can’t tempt you then?”

“Not a wookie’s hope in a grooming parlor”

“As you wish. Then I will be forced to destroy you”

“Bring it punk. Actually, before we commence our fight to the death…”

“What is it son?”

“Please don’t call me that. About these light sabers. I know how to fire them up but the instructions are in Klingon of all things”

“Just wave it around a lot and pout as you do”

“Bear with me a moment”

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“How am I doing?”

“Impressive. Most impressive. Obi-Wan has taught you well. You have controlled your fear. Now, release your anger. Only your hatred can destroy me”

“Obi-Wan didn’t teach me shit. He was too buy getting blown by some Tatoiine chick-boy to offer his support”

“How the mighty have fallen”

“I know right? Don’t even get me started on Yoda”

“Still trying to sneak onto The Simpsons ride?”

“I’m almost embarrassed for him”

“And these are your allies. It’s not too late you know, the dark side is always recruiting”

“Thanks but I’ll pass. Instead, prepare to feel the force”

“You’ve got the hang of your light saber then?”

“No actually, I just got mail”

“It’s probably just spam. I get it all the time”

“That is where you are very much mistaken. This particular correspondence is about to turn the tide in my favor. Bear with me as I wait for the attachment to open”

“I haven’t got all day you know”

“Almost done. There. Now drop to your knees you cretin”

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“It cannot be. Not Duran Duran”

“Indeed it is Darth. What’s wrong? You appear to be in a dash of discomfort there”

“It’s..it’s this wretched arm cramp”

“I heard about that. You see, a little bird filled me in on your pet peeves and muscular strain. Who needs the force when you’ve got good old inside information?”

“I beg of you. Take pity on your old man”

“I’m afraid that will not be possible. Wave it around a lot and pout you say?”

“Nooooooooooo!”

Fucking chump change. I have to say, after all the build-up, that was something of an anti-climactic intergalactic skirmish. Less than ten minutes it took to save the galaxy and wipe out the dark side. Still not quite sussed out the force but who needs that when you have Duran Duran in your inventory? Perhaps that C-3PO isn’t such a dickweed after all. True to my word, I shall repair his comlink and perhaps even throw in a back massage for good measure. However, first things first, let’s find out whether Leia can touch her toes with a joint of gammon in her colon.

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Click here to awaken the force

 

Truly, Really, Clearly, Sincerely,

Keeper of the Crimson Quill

Copyright: Crimson Quill: Savage Vault Enterprises 2016

keeper rivers of grue

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