A long, long time ago in a galaxy a goodish hike from the home front…
Lord Vader: I say, young Skywalker, I see that you have constructed your own lightsaber.
Extraordinary. Most extraordinary, indeed.
Luke: Not at all, not at all. I must admit, however, I do find the curved handle to be rather
convenient when one is suddenly compelled to broach vast chasms by way of a swinging
rope. One simply hangs the saber upon the arm, thereby eliminating the need to choose
between dropping one’s weapon or a sarcastic young princess.
Lord Vader: Ah, yes, I see your point. The old throw-over-the-ballast-while-fleeing-from-
badly-aimed-bullets dilemma.
Luke: Exactly so.
Lord Vader: Forgive me if this question seems impertinent, but I wonder…might you
consider parting with the saber? For a fair price, of course.
Luke: It’s not for sale at any price, I’m afraid.
Lord Vader: Quite right, quite right. I regret having brought up—
Luke: Instead, I give it to you.
Lord Vader: My dear boy!
Luke: I insist. I see that you are a chap who appreciates a lovingly crafted weapon. I shall be
only too happy to lovingly craft another for myself. I think, perhaps, something in blue this
time.
Lord Vader: Well, I must say, that’s most awfully decent of you. Ah, it firmly grasps my arm
like a well-executed telekinetic throttle. And now, young Skywalker, I wonder if you
wouldn't be amenable to hearing a rather remarkable bit of genealogical what-not.
Luke: Rather!
Lord Vader: Jolly good, my boy, jolly good. In that case, perhaps it might interest you to
know that I, Lord Vader, am none other than your direct male progenitor.
Luke: Sorry—my what?
Lord Vader: You see before you, my good fellow, the patriarch of the Skywalker line—once
a proud Jedi like yourself; the one who ensured that you will never be lacking in the
midichlorian department. I am, in short, your father.
Luke: (momentarily speechless) Well, I...I'm dashed!
Lord Vader: (chuckling) I must say, old offspring, you took the news rather more calmly
than I had anticipated. (Briefly consults his pocket watch) And now, if you will excuse me,
I'm off for a quick spot of tea before destroying the entire population of an unsuspecting
planet. Alder-on-the-Wold, I believe it's called. Always remember, my boy—one is never so
busy that one can't set aside time for a proper tea. Cheerio, then!
(Vader walks off, whistling and twirling his lightsaber by the curved handle)
Luke: 3PO?
C3PO: Sir?
Luke: Did I mention that I’m dashed?
C3PO: I believe you did indicate something of that nature, sir.
Luke: What I mean to say, 3PO, is that a chap's nervous system hasn't really been put
through its paces until it has just got wind of the fact that a caped fiend with bronchial
issues is actually his long-lost parent.
C3PO: A disquieting revelation indeed, sir.
Luke: A rather bitter wad of gum to chew, midichlorians or no.
C3PO: Poignantly put, sir.
Luke: I wonder if you might be good enough to help ease the disturbance in the force by
mixing up a beaker of your special tonic, what?
C3PO: I should be happy to oblige, sir.
Luke: One doesn't want to rush about screaming and falling into largish shafts that lead into
the endless void of space without applying a bit of gray matter to the situation first.
C3PO: I shouldn't advise it, sir.
Luke: Just so. Off with you then, 3PO, and work your liquid enchantments. And may the
force be with you.
C3PO: Thank you, sir. And if I may take the liberty of returning the sentiment?
Luke: As you will, 3PO, as you will. However, I’m inclined to think the beverage would do
me more good, if you see what I mean.
C3PO: I shall put my hand to the task immediately, sir.
Luke: Thank you, 3P0. I’ll just lounge here against the X-Wing, quietly and comfortably
raging, until you return.
C3PO: Very good, sir.
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forgive me i am discombobulated again.
i would not like be a member of a club who would have me as a member...Groucho
Marks.
T.U.R.D. (because I'm a farter)