Discourse with Darth
What? I have friends in high places. Friends with breathing regulators.
Darth was a little concerned. I was puttering around my place, smoking dope, listening to tunes, and being generally a little apathetic.
Darth glowered at me. Or, if I could see his eyes, I’d expect he would’ve been glowering.
He looked me over, shook that big plastic head of his, and gruffly huffed, “Steff, Steff, Steffie.”
He sighed in that mechanical way of his. “You’re not in touch with your dark side.”
“I know, I know. But it’s July. It’s light for 18 hours a day right now.”
“No, no. You’re too..." Waving his hand dismissively, he concluded his thought. "Fluffy.”
“Fluffy? FLUFFY? No beer for you.”
“Hmm. I think I can rephrase,” said the Dark Lord. “All right. You need to feel your anger. You need to rage. You need to rant. You’re letting your blog readers down.”
“My blog readers?”
“Yes. They have come to know you as a loose cannon. Someone they can turn to in the midst of all this... fluffiness.”
“But... now I’m fluffy?”
“Will I get a beer though?”
“All right,” I sighed.
“You’re fluffier than the Ewoks I keep for kicks.”
“You keep Ewoks for kicks?”
“How do you think my suit’s so shiny? I shine it? I have an evil empire to run. No, no. The Ewoks take orders well. I have some that tend bar in my private quarters when I host... soirees. Besides, and don't let this get out, I think they're sort of cute.”
“Hmm. So I’m fluffy. Wow. ‘Course, consider the source.”
“Just because I’m an evil dark lord and I control an empire and I can kill people using my mind doesn’t mean I can’t be an objective observer, you know. Where in the Emperor’s name is my goddamned beer, anyhow?”
“Right. Ale for you. Spine for me. Sigh.”