ANAKIN: Whoa.

VADER: Indeed.

A: Haven't seen a last-minute escape like that since we had Artoo around. Wonder whatever happened to him? You don't suppose...naaaaahhhh!

V: Hmmm....Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't Admiral Piett just say that the Millenium Falcon would be within tractor beam range in just a few moments?

A: Um...yeah.

V: And wasn't the Falcon just SKIMMING OUR HULL a few moments ago?

A: Yeah...

V: What does that tell you?

A: That...we bought some really crappy tractor beam projectors?

V: Maybe. But it tells *me* that we need a new admiral.

A: Hold on, there. Let's not go flying off the handle, now. Piett's still new at the admiral gig...

V: So?

A: So...if you kill him, you'll just have to find another officer to replace him. Then *he* might do something wrong, and you'll kill *him*, and so on, and so on, until everyone's dead and the only one left to run the ship is Pete the janitor.

V: Sanitation engineer.

A: What?

V: Pete's not a janitor; he's a sanitation engineer.

A: Right, right. And you're not a killer; you're a strangulation facilitator.

V: Someone has to pay for this...

A: C'mon, just let it go. If you have to vent, go kick a few mouse droids around, instead....Hey! Better yet--let's head down to the commissary; they're serving triple fudge swirl cake. You can drown your anger in chocolatey goodness.

V: Hmmm. Perhaps...

A: Remember--the ability to kill your subordinates is insignifigant next to the power of fudge.

V: Ohhhhh...very well.

(Vader turns and stalks off the bridge, leaving a fearful--though somewhat relieved--crew behind.)

A: Hey, since we're on the topic, let me explain my theory of how chocolate amplifies the Force...

© 1998-2004 rabidbantha@hotmail.com