The Complete Three Word Epic!
Meanwhile, on Coruscant another night began. The dark was unusual because normally the sky wasn’t full of ships. Those ships were just preparing to begin their decent towards the Imperial headquarters that was their intended target.
“Don’t panic!” the mission leader said. “Just remember that we’ll make all our targets run for their lives,” Meanwhile in the bowels of the hidden base underneath the Moff’s bathroom sat a single Imperial officer named Captain Traven Dunn was the only one who knew how to march Imperial style. The Moff, Willy, did not know the complicated rhythm but he practiced until the late hours of the night. Suddenly there was an explosion that shook the floor. It threw him into the door and into a pile of bantha being carried by cloud of stench. He felt like a big sack of cold noodles. He stood up dusting off his snazzy Moff jacket, standard issue pants, snazzy Moff cap. But he missed the Bantha poodoo that he once wanted more than he deserved. But now he had poodoo all in one smelly pile. It was a particular type of situation in which he had no other chance than this moment to call for help.
“Traven!” he screamt, his voice higher than a girl’s. Traven wondered what was for dinner. Willy, sounding anguishy screamed “We’re having grilled Bantha if Han will not get a pizza from the little restaurant owned by Pizza the Hutt,”
“I hate pizza!”
“Bantha burgers then?”
In the meantime, he heard a voice inside his living room closet that sounded like a pissed off Rancor. A Mini-Me Rancor! Quickly, he threw on his bright Frisbee of doom which steered clear of his antique porcelain vase. He sighed, relieved it didn’t break. So he moved the vase to the table where his six pack of prune juice waited. Taking one of bottles he emptied and reached for his glass eye. Blinking twice he pulled it out, licking it before handing it to Corran, who said, “Thanks but I already have two. Another one would be far too much to handle. But if you polish it up with some fine Rancor oil, it will taste good,” Corran grinned lopsidedly and coolly replied, “I’m not hungry. But I will eat later if Han doesn’t cook. Last time he cooked it was an ‘adventure’ in many different ways,”
“First, the kitchen was a disaster and don’t ask about the sink that became a dianoga nest because I planned for a lifeday dinner but dianoga pie sounds a bit exotic if you will. However I still ate it because in the spirit of lifeday, all Ewoks must shave their fur before performing in the musical extravaganza due to its intense physical requirements,”
“What the?” Traven thought as he looked at the quest list written by Mischa, who just walked in. She wore only a tight fitting towel that belonged to Jabba the Hutt. Jabba’s newest slave, Garrick Farrell, who lost a bet looked back at lovely Mischa’s delicious oatmeal raisin cookies. Quickly he moved to investigate them. There was the chance of being totally amazing but thanks to his rather limited amount of taste buds he didn’t even knew what he was in for. Like a sandpanther, he gracefully pounced until he hit the floor, missing the Moff’s precious jewels, but not the container of elderberries and hamsters. The Moff, surprised by the impertinent klutz, as the container of hamsters and elderberries was knocked over and made the Moff a bit upset.
“Nooooooo!” he screamt as the tried to catch the hamsters while avoiding imminent death. But one hamster crawled into the elderberries, making a mess while getting loaded on cheap whiskey and looking like the silliest thing when the Moff noticed the boozing hamsters that started dancing to the Imperial march while slamming more whiskey. Meanwhile, Sam was climbing over the elderberries towards the anti-hamster serum that Traven had in his pant’s pocket. Without a word, Traven stared down the bottom of the hamster pile that was terribly out of order with drunk hamsters and smashed elderberries, plus Garrick was being bothered by wondering about Novette keeping a stash of yummy bubblegum that tasted like hamsters and elderberries.
“Not again!” thought Garrick as he smacked his forehead. He tried to fight the dizziness and failed miserably. Waking up on Traven’s bed he prayed he didn’t get that drunk then he noticed Jarivena walk in wearing nothing but one of Leto’s towels which barely covered all of that it needed to cover. She hated life now, had a hangover and decided to take a remedy. Elderberries in hand and a bright lightsaber in the other there was a sudden explosion. Everybody around jumped and Jari dropped the lightsaber that promptly went out and rolled under a big Sith that was slumped over Sam who asked Garrick to help her up but first he had to go find a crane which was over at the secret rendezvous, but nobody cared that the crane was a heavy lift model. Nobody except Sam would even think it can lift more as a cow would weigh. Garrick figured the Sith weighed about the same as Corbin’s ego and thus was impossible to know if Sam would weigh as much. On the other hand, a pair of dwarf Rancors were gnawing at Sam’s favorite nail file. Noticing this Sam immediately grabbed her second favorite file, jabbing it into the nearest minirancor’s throat, killing it without regrets. But suddenly she heard its mother roar as she grieved the other mini-rancor. Without a word, Sam turned to the sky hoping for a miracle. It never came.
Instead, a ship showed up and started to drop giant spiders hellbent on wreaking havoc, but they didn’t. Instead they all were exposed to the momma Rancor that paniked completely and ran away. Sam ran after her with her biggest nailfile ever! With one swing, she hit the Rancor in the nose, making it back up in extreme pain. It was very angry, but suddenly a bomb fell from the cupboard in the back of the supply closet where Traven normally went with Jordan. The bomb was a planet killer that failed to explode but it took up all of her strength so she decided to leave the room before the Imperials returned from all night dance that was sponsored by the Imperial Bureau of Investigation. They would be back exactly the moment Sam made the decision to take her nail files to the next room and made dinner for everybody. Then when everyone arrived, they were really hungry, but were distracted by the fireworks Garrick had lit beside.
“Gandalf!” they screamt, running for cover as the fireworks exploded too early.
“Ow!” Garrick cried. “COVER!” Jari yelled, leaping over the sleeping, snoring wampa that snuggled against a cautious Jedi. The Jedi dreamt he was a spilled hamster that Garrick stepped on but couldn’t kill. It rose to its true size which dwarfed a wookiee as much as any great beast. Garrick didn’t know what he was getting into this time but he as hell won’t let this stop him from screaming like a scared little girl. Taking a page from Corran’s notebook where all comm-numbers were scribbled he had collected from his former Master’s lovers. It had a lot of Sith in it in need of some hot, hot caf and ryshcate, but not together. They would only chase monkeys when they drank both, especially when the “unspeakable thing” came, Corran dressed as a very purple dinosaur with white lingerie over its large purple hide.
Then a mynock approached the Corellian because it saw the fluffy hairdo on its big fat head. Landing, it found a safe place to hide its small collection of shiny little things from the Jawas. The things smelled just like a wet bantha or a pack of flying albino monkies. But then suddenly the Gift Baskets were set ablaze and they started to clamor across the room where these events happened. Then the sprinklers were activated as Moffbunnie’s cookies burned and firefighters began to break through and spray everything with fire-retardant foam, as Moffbunny screamed like a girl being chased by kriffing bug sniffers.
Moffbunny slipped in his comfy bathrobe and decided to pretend that he was in Oz, but the firefighters had Russian accents and decided to dance the Trepak, but his shoes were full of Alderaanian cheese so every time he took one step, it squished out. It scared the fluffy bright pink bunny soldiers that were allergic to Corellian caf and black shoe polish, but they could hold their breath until their lungs began to inflate the size of a wookie’s forehead. But once the Bunny soldiers were ready to fly away home to the planet Magic Man IV where they would have their huge egos stroked by a mini-me of a giant pickle.
“Flight attendant!” screamed a well-known voice of a pretty young Imperial agent who probably wasn’t alone in her bedroom. She wasn’t wearing one stitch of clothes except for a thin piece of blue ribbon right where nobody expected it to be. It was draped around her left ear, but that didn’t matter because she was already gone into the next room where the crowd of photographers took pictures of her huge metallic suitcase in which there was only to shine light. But there was only five people that had ever done that certain hula dance which got the attention of the incredible but yet small Ewok. Bright lights shined down from the very top of the room. It caused that Ewok to grab a statue made of muddy clay.
Suddenly a crazy Womprat named Mango started jumping on Corran’s sofa. Also, the ceiling was on fire that caused Mango to turn on the disco music. Suddenly all Rogues heard a loud crash as Leto and the rest did jumping jacks on bubble wrap. The sound of all that popping made Jari grab some earplugs to throw at the bubble popping fiends. Then the song started that everybody sang along to.
Meanwhile, in the Death Star cantina, Willy and his minions ordered Penne all’arrabbiata which the chef had trouble serving because of all the dancing spiders. The chef dropped the spoon as he gasped at the sight of Traven in his sparkly, tiny, pink, polka-dotted, hooded flight suit. He walked calmly to the nearest com and proceeded to order fifty delicious bantha burgers with the works, delivered to 4410 John Williams Drive.
“Who the hell ordered this much without getting any side orders of baked mynock wings?” Corran threw his Prius at the unsuspecting bushes that didn’t know what was coming as a Gundark emerged and picked up a few bananas. That act was not quite the idea that was originally planned. Instead the gundark threw the nearest heavy hydrospanner toward the direction of poor Mr. Frosty the Hutt, who was eating a huge shaved ice cone.
“There be my yellow rubber ducky that will rule this place when I will be destroyed by forces of the evil squirrels. They will wreak havoc on the supply of cheese and wine that was stored for the upcoming event sponsored by the Imperial Sewing Society. If anything were to….
And after all that, it was only 3 1/2 pages on my word processor. It really did make some sense until some bright mind decided to yell “Flight attendant!”. It started to fade away after that…
Good job, everyone, we’re craaaaaaaaaaaaaazy!
Re: The Complete Three Word Epic!It reads a lot better than I thought it would. Awesome :]
Re: The Complete Three Word Epic!That is hilarious. I wonder what the rest of it will look like. *grins*
Re: The Complete Three Word Epic!How that's funny.
Re: The Complete Three Word Epic!OMG! I have to give Garrick many kudos for taking the time to compose this mess we made! After reading it, I think we all have taken too much glitterstim.
Complete 3 Word Epic, Continued!If anything were to upset the Imperials, it was the fifty Rebels that wore brightly colored outfits that were tailored after the Wampas on Hoth.
For eighty days the celebration would continue, and then a wave of giant, mutated Turtlemen appeared from nowhere. That caused a great deal of consternation. The Turtlemen wondered what the brave Imperial officers were doing with their cute little Traven action figures. Despite that situation, there was hope for a rescue, but from where?
Boulders started to shake as Corbin did a dance all up on Lord Vader’s desk, ruining the personalized Traven action figure. Even so, Vader was somewhat amused with Corbin’s impressive party hat. It made Vader all tingly when he played with his long, red lightsaber hilt, which was strangely formed into a candy cane, complete with white stripes and a purple igniter. Vader would often be adored because he knew how the officer liked their hot chocolate, if you know what I mean.
But Corran didn’t. He asked Vader, “Would you like a sugar cookie?”
First Vader hesitated, afraid that Corran eats the cookie, give the code of Da Vader, and runs out to find the stick of power with which he would strike down the Clone Emperor.
Then fireworks started because some Ewoks couldn’t stop Haika from setting off the new year’s fireworks. It was an incredible display of Gift Basket power in all its amazing glory, which scared the Imperials speechless. Also, only one them managed to speak loud and clearly in Old English screamed, “Ye don’t know what yer getting into here! Forth Eorlingas!”
Then Thor emerged from a cloud of laughing gas holding his hammer, giggling like a little Twi’lek girl. The laughter echoed through the hangar, causing the overhead to start to run down the walls and land flat on the floor, making a huge stain. However, the floor was now as dirty as a Hutt’s rancor cage. Stains and other stuff ruined the former, made from Corbin’s old ship that glowed in the dark. It ate only smelly, pickled Nuna droppings and did not like anything to drink but Corellian brandy.
It was already in the evening and most of the squirrels were dressing up as little Imperial officers, except for one that was dressed as a Moff, but Willy was not amused. Instead, he was dead!
Zombie Willy began eating the flesh of the helpless, screaming squirrels until many zombie squirrels started chasing after the Antilles siblings with nut axes. “LOL!” Zombie Willy exclaimed triumphantly. he was looking for something to throw at Garrick. Growling, Garrick started to transform into a gigantic cleaning woman armed with a giant vacuum 9000 cleaner, a.k.a. Vacu-Suck.
Raising the dust into a whirlwind that ate a half of the nail file that would not stop with the command to jump out of the submerged Rebel transport. If the air bags were as big as an apple, there could be a problem when they impact on Endor. Because if that would happen, hundreds of Ewoks would be grilled to a nice barbecue. Just the thing to enjoy on a crisp and cool day , under a tree where the big Gundarks roam freely.
The Gundarks ate three Ewoks while those who watched toasted marshmallows on the wreck of a stolen TIE. With decals from the LEGO Company. The stolen TIE was a prototype of the Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious Squadron. It was a brand name, but they still had to struggle to find a sponsor to provide them with a dozen of new Hydroponic Cloud Squirrels.
“Wow! Squirrels he bought online!” Leto whispered as he futilely attempted to silence the only person who knew how to do the Macarena correctly.
“Heeeeey, Macarena!” Mischa yelled as she danced around with Leto’s only towel.
“NOOOOOOOOO!” Corbin screamed at the sight of Leto without the sight of his tighty whiteys. “The horror is not in the sight, but the terror is near.”
Han tried to kiss Sam, but Corran kept blabbing about some other library that had the hat that turned frogs into Carida academy students, which sounded utterly ridiculous if you listened closely. But back to the Deathstar, where meanwhile, Traven was looking for spray paint to vandalize Han’s X-Wing with Imperial ‘kill marks’ that were organized in cute, pink, round mouse that looked like the most common being of Watership Down.
Apples are tasty and taste great with certain kinds of parmesan cheese, but was not the cheese on hand, unfortunately. Anyway, the TIE fighters were searching around for a sign of life on the flabby piece of flesh under Vader’s plate of tabasco and chili soup.
“Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!” said Vader. “That is gross, but I guess a man has to do what his wife tells him to."
Padme was bitchy as usual, her PMS raging like a giant space slug. Meanwhile, on Naboo, Leto and Misch contemplated their new luxury ‘supply closet’, complete with a special edition of Ewoks in Space. “Brig Love” was the best episode seen by billions on the Holonet. The ratings were astronomically high, but the quality was undetectable in Ewokese.
“Too bad,” thought Jelt, as Corbin tried to make a fried egg with diced weiners and maple syrup while he was searching desperately for the real maple syrup, not the fake goo produced on Nal Hutta.
Petra thought that Gundark ears were easy to find, but was surprised to hear that they were actually as rare as Corusca gems, which sparkled like Corran’s pearly white teeth.
Jade almost fainted at the sight of that dazzling shoe that Corran had gotten stuck on bubble gum that Han didn’t buy from Jelt. But did buy from the terrible monstrosity of a salesman that did a Hutt inside Jari’s birthday cake. “Taaa-daaah,” the Hutt wailed as it bounced out of the cake, smashing the cask that held Jari’s vintage wine.
Meanwhile, back at Corran’s penthouse, Val had finally cornered a certain guy dressed in a tutu and stockings. “Give me the code for the mechanical bull! There must be a way to beat the highest score.” But Corran laughed and snorted like a rancor’s cub.
This made Han lull his head sideways, and peered through the shirt that Jelt wore.
“I’m going to murder that frakkin’ son a Gundark, but he is just too cute to be beaten on, so I’ll have to tickle him until Sam intervenes, and that will be very soon. Lumber would be the best to build a Y-Wing or an Ewok clubhouse in the snowy mountains that would be made of tickle!”
In the meantime, many moffbunnies were planning their seige of Bast Castle. “Noooooooo!” the voice of the castle’s flying buttresses echoed as they approached the moat filled with gargantuan, ravenous, clam chowder fiends. And they were singing of the victory song they wrote during their most crippling defeat. The lyrics were sung to a polka band named “Max Dodonna and the tame Rumpelstiltskins”.
“What a beautiful morning.” Sam shouted as she merrily made pot pie with her bare hands. Then suddenly, there was a noise inside the walls, which kept the mice from eating Sam’s pie.
Willem was swallowed suddenly by a giant, scary narwhal. “Holy crap!” said Willy, spear in hand while holding Ahab’s wooden leg above Han’s head. “Han, use your fork.”
But Han knew better. Instead, he whipped out a titanium spork and shoved it right into the juiciest part of Sam’s pot pie. “Yum!” Han exclaimed as noisy as a salivating Gamorrean. He then grabbed Traven’s butt while a symphonic orchestra blared from Jelt’s ghetto blaster, playing “Rock me, Amadeus”.
“Hands off Traven!” Jelt yelled as Han cranked the bass up to 11, then the Max Rebo band thundered with music that shook the foundations of the entire city of Naboo. The repercussions made the Gungans cry in terror as their ears spun madly through a mechanical ricepicker.
“Cripes!” said the Queen, who was busy knitting a Jayne hat for Darth Sythis. He placed it on his his milky white, hairy head.
“Excellent!” said Sythis.
“Ridiculous!” shouted Dodonna instead.
So then he switched his conditioner, and-voila!-his hair was like freshly sheared lambs. Sythis was impressed until Han puked next to the sink, and not in it, where Traven’s shorts were. The shorts were now useless, and rather icky too. “Do not want,” said Traven, and pouted like a common Jedi baby.
“Quit your pouting!” Daiman said while tapping his fingers, while waiting for his food order. Finally it came, a huge tray full of yummy targ ribs, smothered in tasty barbecue sauce that was so good, it won the grand prize of Huttese cuisine.
“LOOK!” Val yelled. “It’s a big Gundark, and it’s coming straight for poor, defenseless Sam.”
Instead of running, she merely glared. Then her lasereyes flashed like a Death Star laser. The Gundark stopped immediately, but the glare suddenly lost control. It strengthened to the power of a thousand suns. Millions were killed.
Ranzen sensed their losses through the prank side of the Farce. But that’s another story.
Meanwhile, back at Corran’s dinner party, the desert contained delicious bits of Corellian dark chocolate in a lovely concentric shape like an Easter bunny. Easter bunnies are worse than Ewoks in terms of appeasing galactic appetites.
Sometimes on Coruscant, there was an Easter bunny purge that Lord Vader organized as charity event for displaced Ewoks from Endor. “At least until a plague named ‘Tribbles Are Cute’” said Willem, sneering and drawing his magical pen of anti-swine formula to fight the evil minions of the Great Pumpkin. “You will die!” he growled like a toothless sandpanther. And he smelled like a bantha.
“What’s going on?!?” growled Admiral Dodonna while Dunn was in the ‘fresher shaving off the hairs of his legs to test the sharpness of Sam’s nail file. The test was to fart at an incoming horde of Imperial grunts wearing pretty pink tutus and highheels while balancing on a trapeezist wire.
“Oh my gosh!” Garrick said as one of the grunts asked him if he would borrow his toothpick. The grunt looked a little like Nash Cadman, but maybe he was just a clone. If so, the quality of his clothes would be not as good as the original. Alas, the potato failed the test because of the Death Star’s vector, which is toward the gas giant of Yavin IV.
Meanwhile, on the planet Birdoo, the crazy crew of the Sobriety were not sober as the Rats on a typical mission. Alas, if they were all in the same state of mind as Corbin was, they’d be awesome, because they were the bomb that already fizzled to nothing. But that’s another popsicle.
What snowman would not want a rocket launcher? Hothy the snowman was a merry, merry little snowman, who cried blood that ruined his snowy white dress and machete.
“Die, yuppie scum!” yelled the Imp as he saw the hideous creature emerge from a crate made of boards. Very boring indeed, he thought. But nevertheless, he attempted to force open the door, but bounced off the TIE’s cockpit. “Frak!” he shouted as he rubbed peanut butter on his wounds, crying tears of anger.
Suddenly, without warning, a maniacal menagerie from the jungle of Dagobah began to play rather spine tingling music. “Oooooowaaaaaahooo Laaaaaaaaaaa Roooobaaaaaanooooo!”
The lovely voice emerged from the crate with the illegal spice from Pizza the Hutt. “Damnit,” Sam cursed as she saw that light had the look of two drunk Ewoks.
The sound of music echoed through Jabba’s Palace, and then a booming laugh from Jabba. “Lapti Nek!” shouted the Twi’lek slave while dancing with a Corran clone.
Han was shocked, if not even surprised to see his wingman like an exact dopplegänger. Water spurted all over the dancefloor and Corran fell on top of an unsuspecting Ewok. There was no escape from the water, which rose ever higher. They burst into song!
Until the only sober one of the bunch decided it was time for doing the only thing they could think about. That was finding the holy hand grenade of Antioch, and giving it to the one and only true heir, which was Sam.
“Revenge for Alderaan!” she shouted as she hit Traven’s jaw with her icy snowball. “Onwards!” they yelled at the advancing men who cried “Havoc!” and slipped on several banana peels carelessly left there by a band of renegade monkeys.
They already went to lay more landmines by the sleeping Imperial encampent. But Imperials never thought the monkeys would eat all of the the bananas, but before they started the terrible, horrible, no good candle lit parade, Kaasi decided he liked to dance!
“Just dance!” Willem shouted as he marched up to the top of the biggest staircase in the room. He put on a bedazzled robe with shiny rhinestones just like Traven’s nice silky underpants. It fit snugly around his waist. He looked like a porn star in a less constricting outfit, but then he fell onto a big pile of dirty, rotten rebel-reject Imperials who looked like Margolin’s idea of a sexy dream man.
Butterflies fled from the flower in Sam’s big garden next to the giant statue of Han Solo. But it looked more like a flock of rather strange looking seagulls, like they were made of dungbeetles. But that couldn’t be what they needed to dance like Hutt on fried Kowakian monkey lizard.
“Mmm, crunchy,” Han said as he stepped around a frizzled Sam. She looked somewhat like an Ice Queen. But that is hotter than a Twi’lek dancing girl in her usual.
Morning finally came as the sun rose over the remains of the derelict cruiser. Womprats promptly ate everything.They could get no satisfaction. But they try, and there was no sound to the music being played over the comlink.
“Ahoy, maties!” cried the scratchy voice of everyone’s favorite character on Epics, with the name you could never guess, but still dresses up in a bright colored (sic) that belongs to a certain Rogue.
“I screwed up!” shouted the green slime, living under the front doormat of Dodonna’s quarters, though only during off duty hours. This was because there were strict regulations concerning the amount of overtime that the slime could ooze.
If there was a little more wiggle room in the ridiculous schedule for the paperwork done by the administrator who doesn’t make caffa right
Re: The Complete Three Word Epic!Gavin.
I love you.
Re: The Complete Three Word Epic!Our story is just awesome. We write like Douglas Adams. LOL
Thanks for putting it into one post, Gavin.
Re: The Complete Three Word Epic!We should put it in "I Write Like" and see who comes up. Or if we break the program.
Re: The Complete Three Word Epic!LOL I did that already. It said Cory Doctorow.
Complete 3 Word Epic Goes On and On and On . . .Jelt and Enzo were sharing a night of passion, dancing close to the Sarlacc’s maw, then some Sandpeople started to yell a poem written by a Rodian who claimed to be the greatest of all the poets since the last toga party, and that was more than people would have cared to hear about, but nevertheless, they enjoyed the luau until the unexpected talent show started.
Matheron the Amazing began his show with an amazing display of drunken polka dancing. While in the audience, Sandpeople and Jawas danced like 1999 was last year. Dancing Jawas look like Vanilla Ice, drugged with spice.
Screeching noises were the first reaction. To all the audience members, it sounded like a cat meowing about being in heat. Only one person could tolerate it all without being a diabolical Sith Lord, and that person was not Sythis.
Instead, it was the very notorious trivia contest champion who definitely wasn’t Han, but neither were any Imps.
Then who was the schmuck that was so awesome nobody seemed to like him, except he volunteered to buy everyone drinks? But he didn’t have quite enough creds to pay even for a souvenir mug from Nar Shaddaa. That was made by the specialty store in Mos Espa that was wrecked after a runaway done by the Three Stooges and Lord Sythis. What a terrible mess!
“BLOODY FRAK!!” yelled a protocol droid that was listening to a lecture about the dangers of cooking bacon while naked. Then suddenly, without warning, robots attacked! The zombie droids were dancing to the Monster Mash; it was a loud stomping, but not as deafening as Disaster Area concerts.
“Don’t panic!” cried the Heffalump, created by Imperial witch doctors for reasons unknown, but still ordered by every single one who was living to do the latest dance craze which was the Horizontal Bop, Leto’s fave dance with you know who.
“Voldemort?!” screamed Lieutenant Margolin, “How dare you to take the last towel unless you need to clean something.”
Stay in your carbonite slabs if you want to keep your hat on your head, or I will jump the line between sanity and Ziro the Hutt!
“Surf’s up!” shouted Corran as he grabbed an anchor and hoisted it to the top of Ziro’s sail barge while it was in the dunes being capsized by an angry Sarlacc. It’s angry because Imperial HoloVision canceled Next American Idol.
“But I wanted to see who assassinated the finalists!” Jelt pouted as she looked about the place. “Where’s the remote?” she wondered, wanting to hide it. But she had already started barbecuing the nerfsteaks and free-range World Devastators that covered the table in the super secret hide-out.
Suddenly, someone knocked at Han’s head, hoping to discover the secrets that helped one bake the secret recipe of the Colonel’s mustard. This special blend of three well known spices, plus a secret Wookiee tooth, would cause the consumer to sing loudly and strip naked, which can be horrifying to everyone.
Tatooine frostbite occurs quickly. Preventative measures are the following: Egg cream soda, tooth paste foam, Gavin’s old socks, a jock strap, and most important, Syrian Panther Sweat on the rocks.
“Don’t try that at home, kids. You’ll shoot your eye out.” But only if you look down the alley where the Imp chicken walker is bearing down on the Ewoks like a runaway girl kissing a statue made from Math’s own hands.
It’s an extraordinary moment they shared, but was spoiled by the sudden burst of a water balloon that completely flooded Tatooine just as Darth Sythis started dancing a Highland fling with Flora MacDonald, the fiancee of a certain Bothan who couldn’t bake anything with a recipe that required cooking. So they went out to the nearest eatery that was owned by Jabba the Hutt, winner of Britain’s Got Talent.
His winning performance of “Yub-Nub” stunned the audience and the judges applauded loudly as if thousands of Ewoks attempted to perform the difficult somersault over the Gungans playing Wegsphere, but without the insurance policy provided by an agency from Nar Shaddaa. But the Jedi Chefs used too much Wookiee tooth seasoning in the ceviche; that made it inedible, but nevertheless made it the most unique statue of Corran, which Jade wanted to smash into tiny little relics that could be worth some worshipping after being glued on the wing an X-wing lost while performing stunts with the Rats and Paladins for the benefit exhibition thrown by the Committee of Public Intoxication and Debauchery.