Take a Pick
"Take a pick," he said. I wasn't sure who to believe, so I snatched the purse out of the masculine woman's hands. "Stop, thief!" he screamed in a shrill voice that sent my mind fluttering upon the edge of the burrito at the end of the world. I didn't wait. Taking off, I ran for the closest barber shop (hair stylist, he prefers to be called). Nobody ever goes for a haircut on this dustball....
Life on the streets of Nar Shadda was hard, and it was by this that I acquired my credits to bust off that small rock. The woman (man) was in reality a smuggler by the name of Kaor Bree, whom I was to encounter and irritate for the rest of mine, and to Kaor's regret, his life. He was smuggling a cool million of hard credits last I saw of him.
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My life no longer has any meaning. Not that it ever did have a meaning, mind you. I am defecting to the Empire. The Rebel scum took away everything I had. I will take what little is left of my life and plundge it deep into the traitors. For the very essence of what I am is - revenge. I am a Dark Jedi!
-abridged from the bestseller "My Mother is a Hopschka, and I Can't Get a Date"
~Vader224~