![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sunnyskywalkerI've been trying to write more fiction lately, and to write more short things, because I write slowly and I write long, so I need the practice. But I just couldn't come up with anything serious, so I have this instead.
Title: A Farmboy Confronts the Emperor
Fandom: Star Wars (Disclaimer)
Categories: PG, Gen, Crack
Summary: The following is a random little crack-fic version of the throne room scene from Return of the Jedi where Luke asks the questions we've all wanted to ask the emperor: why is he wearing a ratty old bathrobe, and when was the last time he washed it?
"Welcome, young Skywalker. I have been expecting you."
Emperor Palpatine savored the words, watching for the boy's inevitable reaction. Even the bravest of officers trembled when they heard his slow, cackling voice, controlled and confident of his omnipotence.
The boy's brows contracted a fraction. He looked... surprised. "You're the emperor?"
Palpatine scowled. "Of course I am, foolish boy. As you shall soon comprehend more fully."
"Oh."
The boy still showed no fear, just that inexplicable puzzlement. Palpatine scowled harder. Was the boy daft? To lose the opportunity to gain a younger, fitter apprentice and be stuck with the rusty-jointed angst queen of a father instead would be most irksome.
"I thought you would look a little more intimidating, I guess," the boy continued.
"What do you mean by that?" Palpatine snapped. Of course he looked intimidating! Everyone was intimidated by him!
"I just didn't expect Darth Vader's master to be wearing a ratty old hoodie bathrobe, that's all. It's a bit of a letdown after the samurai skull-mask helmet. Though I suppose," he added, looking pensive, "if you're the evil ruler of the galaxy, you can get away with it. Who would dare say you look silly sitting on that throne in your pajamas?"
"You impertinent--"
"Now, Hugh Heffner wears a bathrobe all the time, but it's usually made of some shiny silky stuff, not--what is that, anyway? Black burlap? Doesn't it itch?"
"Of course it doesn't--boy, you would be wise to close your mouth now!"
The boy appeared not to have heard him. "And forgive me for asking, but when was the last time you had it washed? Because I can smell you from all the way at the bottom of these steps, and Your Majesty, you're awfully ripe."
The boy's blue eyes were serene, innocent; they met Palpatine's gaze steadily and seemed to penetrate into the dark recesses of his soul, where something was starting to boil over. This was maddening. Palpatine opened and closed his mouth several times, sputtering something incoherent. What--how--that little--he didn't--who did this boy think he was, anyway?
"Also, I have to ask. What happened to your face?"
Despite his focus on those wide blue eyes, Palpatine had not lost his awareness of everything else. At the boy's last question, he noticed Vader's shoulders twitch ever-so-slightly, as if... Sithspawn, was Vader laughing? Damn that inscrutable mask! Damn Vader! And damn his whelp too! These Skywalkers were nothing but trouble.
Wait, why did he just think of Vader as a Skywalker again? He knew Vader was conflicted, but surely not that conflicted...
"My face is not your concern," Palpatine snarled. "I can see now you are of no use to me."
"Well, obviously not. I wouldn't be very good as a fashion consultant. You should have seen what I wore to the awards ceremony on Yavin. Of course, I've matured since then, and I can at least spot an ugly bathrobe when I see one--"
"Enough! I have been far too tolerant of your impudent tongue. It is time you learned what it means to anger a Dark Lord of the Sith."
"Don't you think that's a bit cliché Evil Overlord? You might want to consider cutting down on the melodrama."
Vader was positively quaking with silent laughter now, and his mechanical breathing was starting to become noticeably ragged. This was too much.
"No, you idiot, it will involve suffering such as you cannot imagine. Now, young Skywalker, you will die!"
Blue-white lightening burst from the Emperor's fingertips and knocked the boy to the floor. The boy, Palpatine was pleased to see, screamed in agony. No more of that maddening serenity for him! He poured more lightening into the writhing form and Force-tossed him a little ways across the floor as if the boy were a rag doll.
"Only now do you understand..."
Palpatine alternated lightening and increasingly harder Force-bounces on the durasteel floor. He advanced toward the boy, pushed the boy further toward a convenient railing--his head would crack satisfyingly against it. He continued advancing and pushing, like a cat toying with a mouse. It felt so good to release his anger this way. He added a long dose of lightening, reveling in the screams, the lightening dancing over the boy's teeth, the charred smell starting to rise from his spasming body...
* * *
The pain stopped suddenly, as if a switch had flipped off. Luke looked up and saw Vader standing, saber extended, behind what looked like a wadded-up rag on the floor. He pulled himself up onto his elbows and knees. He could tell he was going to be aching tomorrow.
Had the emperor really been so wrapped up in his anger that he hadn't noticed Vader coming up behind him? It seemed incredible, but there he was on the ground with a hole through his chest. Luke made a mental note to thank Han for all his years of irreverent quips. Their influence had honed Luke's natural good humor into something which had just rid the galaxy of a very evil man.
There was still the dark figure standing above the body, of course... but Luke was feeling downright optimistic now.
Title: A Farmboy Confronts the Emperor
Fandom: Star Wars (Disclaimer)
Categories: PG, Gen, Crack
Summary: The following is a random little crack-fic version of the throne room scene from Return of the Jedi where Luke asks the questions we've all wanted to ask the emperor: why is he wearing a ratty old bathrobe, and when was the last time he washed it?
"Welcome, young Skywalker. I have been expecting you."
Emperor Palpatine savored the words, watching for the boy's inevitable reaction. Even the bravest of officers trembled when they heard his slow, cackling voice, controlled and confident of his omnipotence.
The boy's brows contracted a fraction. He looked... surprised. "You're the emperor?"
Palpatine scowled. "Of course I am, foolish boy. As you shall soon comprehend more fully."
"Oh."
The boy still showed no fear, just that inexplicable puzzlement. Palpatine scowled harder. Was the boy daft? To lose the opportunity to gain a younger, fitter apprentice and be stuck with the rusty-jointed angst queen of a father instead would be most irksome.
"I thought you would look a little more intimidating, I guess," the boy continued.
"What do you mean by that?" Palpatine snapped. Of course he looked intimidating! Everyone was intimidated by him!
"I just didn't expect Darth Vader's master to be wearing a ratty old hoodie bathrobe, that's all. It's a bit of a letdown after the samurai skull-mask helmet. Though I suppose," he added, looking pensive, "if you're the evil ruler of the galaxy, you can get away with it. Who would dare say you look silly sitting on that throne in your pajamas?"
"You impertinent--"
"Now, Hugh Heffner wears a bathrobe all the time, but it's usually made of some shiny silky stuff, not--what is that, anyway? Black burlap? Doesn't it itch?"
"Of course it doesn't--boy, you would be wise to close your mouth now!"
The boy appeared not to have heard him. "And forgive me for asking, but when was the last time you had it washed? Because I can smell you from all the way at the bottom of these steps, and Your Majesty, you're awfully ripe."
The boy's blue eyes were serene, innocent; they met Palpatine's gaze steadily and seemed to penetrate into the dark recesses of his soul, where something was starting to boil over. This was maddening. Palpatine opened and closed his mouth several times, sputtering something incoherent. What--how--that little--he didn't--who did this boy think he was, anyway?
"Also, I have to ask. What happened to your face?"
Despite his focus on those wide blue eyes, Palpatine had not lost his awareness of everything else. At the boy's last question, he noticed Vader's shoulders twitch ever-so-slightly, as if... Sithspawn, was Vader laughing? Damn that inscrutable mask! Damn Vader! And damn his whelp too! These Skywalkers were nothing but trouble.
Wait, why did he just think of Vader as a Skywalker again? He knew Vader was conflicted, but surely not that conflicted...
"My face is not your concern," Palpatine snarled. "I can see now you are of no use to me."
"Well, obviously not. I wouldn't be very good as a fashion consultant. You should have seen what I wore to the awards ceremony on Yavin. Of course, I've matured since then, and I can at least spot an ugly bathrobe when I see one--"
"Enough! I have been far too tolerant of your impudent tongue. It is time you learned what it means to anger a Dark Lord of the Sith."
"Don't you think that's a bit cliché Evil Overlord? You might want to consider cutting down on the melodrama."
Vader was positively quaking with silent laughter now, and his mechanical breathing was starting to become noticeably ragged. This was too much.
"No, you idiot, it will involve suffering such as you cannot imagine. Now, young Skywalker, you will die!"
Blue-white lightening burst from the Emperor's fingertips and knocked the boy to the floor. The boy, Palpatine was pleased to see, screamed in agony. No more of that maddening serenity for him! He poured more lightening into the writhing form and Force-tossed him a little ways across the floor as if the boy were a rag doll.
"Only now do you understand..."
Palpatine alternated lightening and increasingly harder Force-bounces on the durasteel floor. He advanced toward the boy, pushed the boy further toward a convenient railing--his head would crack satisfyingly against it. He continued advancing and pushing, like a cat toying with a mouse. It felt so good to release his anger this way. He added a long dose of lightening, reveling in the screams, the lightening dancing over the boy's teeth, the charred smell starting to rise from his spasming body...
The pain stopped suddenly, as if a switch had flipped off. Luke looked up and saw Vader standing, saber extended, behind what looked like a wadded-up rag on the floor. He pulled himself up onto his elbows and knees. He could tell he was going to be aching tomorrow.
Had the emperor really been so wrapped up in his anger that he hadn't noticed Vader coming up behind him? It seemed incredible, but there he was on the ground with a hole through his chest. Luke made a mental note to thank Han for all his years of irreverent quips. Their influence had honed Luke's natural good humor into something which had just rid the galaxy of a very evil man.
There was still the dark figure standing above the body, of course... but Luke was feeling downright optimistic now.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-13 02:08 am (UTC)And for some reason the image of Vader laughing is really cracking me up. I think it's because I'm hearing James Earl Jones' great booming joyful sort of laugh, which is totally at odds with Vader. :D
(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-13 06:11 pm (UTC)I'm glad someone got a laugh out of this. I wrote it, thought, "Am I on crack?" and decided it might be fun to post anyway.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-13 11:06 pm (UTC)