SITH TV
by Kelli Clark
Little air bubbles formed and danced on Darth Maul's cornea as he collapsed on his cat-shredded chair. My Apprentice jumped up on his lap for another session of pet mooching, but one Sithly burp from Maul was enough to wilt her whiskers and send her cowering behind her favorite Naboo imported plant. The 9th bottle of Pete's dangled limply from his sweating hand, but failed to quell the even more pungent trauma of his latest assignment of the day - that of being forced to shop for a summer wardrobe for Sidious. Even though he was pickled enough to fill a Hut snack jar, images of Sidious posing in front of the mirror in a frilly pink bikini tortured his mind. In fact, in his drunken state, it was even worse. He kept hallucinating the image onto the blank TV screen. Rage welled up within him as he levitated an empty beer bottle and hurled it at the smiling, preening image. "DIE you sadistic scum!" The impact did nothing but leave little bits of glass embedded in the screen.
The bottle hit the TV with a resounding smack, and sent the cat running. By the Force, I haven't seen him this upset since he had PMS! She said to herself as she ran. On the way, her paw hit the "On" button on the remote control, which was half buried under a chair cushion and several dated copies of Playpadawan. Maul blinked as the TV turned on, and settled back into his seat, content at last as the horrid image of Sidious faded.
As the night wore on, drunkeness gave way to sleep, but Maul's subconscious still heard the TV. Strains of an 80s song played on his sensory-distorted brainwaves.
"I want my..."
It was like a call, a lure. Maul stared at the screen, which seemed strangely alive...
"I want my Sith TV..."
Neon light from an electric guitar reached out like tendrils and wrapped around Maul, dragging him in. Wow, what a rush... he thought in a very unSithly way. From the other side, he saw one last glimpse of his trashed living room before the portal closed. He could have sworn My Apprentice had taken his place on the chair, raising her paw to say goodbye...
A crowd as endless as the spectators at the Tatooine podraces surrounded him. A familiar figure in a tight tank top put down her smoldering cigar long enough to wolf whisle in his direction. It was Darth Lara Croft. Mixed with the assorted denizens of different planets were the animated charachters from his video games.
He must be dreaming.
To make it worse, that brat Obi Wan was in the front row, dancing around in low cut, black leather jeans. "I love you, Maul!" he cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled loud enough for the whole stadium to hear. Strains of "The Sandman" started up and somebody threw Maul an electric guitar. The six member band, all dressed like Siths, stared at him. The second he grabbed the guitar, he was thankful he had it. It was the only thing covering his own instrument of love. That and his tattoos, which were turning more than a little pale. You're a Sith, you can handle these fools! the Dark Side said. With a fierce glare at the staring band, Maul sauntered up to the mike and started singing.
"Sleep with one eye open! Hugging your pillow tight...!" he belted out real loud. The microphone protested with feedback that could have shattered the planet's atmosphere. "AAAAAAAAAAARRRGGGGGGH!!!!" Maul shrieked, his anger erupting as he ignited the lightsaber he'd been using to strum the guitar. The crowd cheered him on, loving every minute of his "act". The band kept playing like nothing had changed. The microphone flew and knocked Obi Wan on the head , and he fell almost blissfully backward into the arms of a Jedi Roadkill charachter. "Clean up on aisle 37..." he shouted to no one in paticular as Obi Wan was carried away.
Fluffy Wan appeared in a cloud of red light on the stretcher, and started chewing his way through Obi Wan's braid...
A crowd of padawan groupies who'd been with Obi Wan fought over the smoldering microphone. "I saw it first!"
"So! I caught it first!"
Another padawan used the Force to zip it into his hands and ran off, the others chasing him enraged.
Maul was almost happy. Ah, potential Jedis fighting over a Sith! Life was good! Except for my wanger hanging out...
"Hush little baby, don't you cry..." he growled menacingly, his voice projecting with Force power. Who needed a microphone? He pictured himself standing over the crib of a newborn padawan, wondering what his mother would think of a Sith Lord as his nanny...
"Dreams of war, dreams of lust, dreams of dragon fire...." Maul opened his mouth and fire came blasting out, then dissolved into Sith shaped sparks that all landed on the crowd's lighters and ignited them. They raised them in salute and cheered wildly. The group of padawan groupies had stopped fighting and suddenly converged on the stage to maul Maul. He instantly sent them flying with the Force, but in the process, his guitar went with them.
The crowd cheered louder than ever.
Just then, a huge semi truck came crashing through the back of the stage. There was a Force-loud honk followed by impish laughter. The Sith band flew into the walls so hard they were embedded there like a Dark Side bas relief.
"AAAAAAARRRRGGGGGHHHH!!!" went Darth Maul. His lightsaber still in hand, he sliced it through the truck's tires, and they flattened with a dying cobra-like hiss. The door opened with Force power and a very tiny, very angry green speck in drag hopped out.
Master Yoda levitated up to Maul's face level and got in it - as loudly as was possible for a muppet.
"Slash my tires you will NOT! Pay for this you WILL! Mm!"
The crowd had silenced, and left an interstate-wide path for the now stalled semi. "And what staring at are YOU?" Master Yoda demanded of the audience. Darth Maul growled deep in his throat.
"Get off my stage, little Jedi scum!" he warned.
"Yoda wears a toupee!" a padawan yelled for the audience's benefit. They all roared. Even Maul's mouth twitched in a smile.
Yoda hopped up and down like a cricket on caffeene.
"Wear a toupee I do NOT!" he insisted, as his wig of whispy white hairs flew off his wrinkled green head in the process.
Maul used Force power to extract his fellow band members from the wall. They all ignited their lightsabers and surrounded Yoda...
One of them speared the fallen "hairpiece" and twirled it around the end of his saber. "Anybody for cotton candy?" Yoda hrumphed indignantly.
Maul eyed Yoda's nails and announced to the crowd. "Oh, look, he's even got a chip!"
Yoda retrieved his hand. "Endure this I will NOT! An appointment to keep in Las Vegas I have!"
"Don't worry, runt, we'll call your salon for ya!" one band member said. With an indignant grunt, Yoda waddled off, his tafetta scarf trailing behind him...
Suddenly, a new figure appeared beside Maul...
"Hey, waddya say we blow this joint?"
It was Darth Lara. Maul growled seductively, picked her up, and strode off the stage...
* * *
"Maul, wake up!" Sidious was shaking him. He was in his own bed, in his own room...
Life was cruel...
"Go away..." he muttered, fighting.
Sidious ignored him. "I have a new assignment for you. You're going to Las Vegas, the perfect place to hone your anger."
Maul groaned.
"Come on, my boy!" Sidious said cheerily, pulling him up by Force power.
* * *
Meanwhile in the other room, My Apprentice was happily punching the buttons to her new game, Sith Music Master...
by Kelli Clark
Little air bubbles formed and danced on Darth Maul's cornea as he collapsed on his cat-shredded chair. My Apprentice jumped up on his lap for another session of pet mooching, but one Sithly burp from Maul was enough to wilt her whiskers and send her cowering behind her favorite Naboo imported plant. The 9th bottle of Pete's dangled limply from his sweating hand, but failed to quell the even more pungent trauma of his latest assignment of the day - that of being forced to shop for a summer wardrobe for Sidious. Even though he was pickled enough to fill a Hut snack jar, images of Sidious posing in front of the mirror in a frilly pink bikini tortured his mind. In fact, in his drunken state, it was even worse. He kept hallucinating the image onto the blank TV screen. Rage welled up within him as he levitated an empty beer bottle and hurled it at the smiling, preening image. "DIE you sadistic scum!" The impact did nothing but leave little bits of glass embedded in the screen.
The bottle hit the TV with a resounding smack, and sent the cat running. By the Force, I haven't seen him this upset since he had PMS! She said to herself as she ran. On the way, her paw hit the "On" button on the remote control, which was half buried under a chair cushion and several dated copies of Playpadawan. Maul blinked as the TV turned on, and settled back into his seat, content at last as the horrid image of Sidious faded.
As the night wore on, drunkeness gave way to sleep, but Maul's subconscious still heard the TV. Strains of an 80s song played on his sensory-distorted brainwaves.
"I want my..."
It was like a call, a lure. Maul stared at the screen, which seemed strangely alive...
"I want my Sith TV..."
Neon light from an electric guitar reached out like tendrils and wrapped around Maul, dragging him in. Wow, what a rush... he thought in a very unSithly way. From the other side, he saw one last glimpse of his trashed living room before the portal closed. He could have sworn My Apprentice had taken his place on the chair, raising her paw to say goodbye...
A crowd as endless as the spectators at the Tatooine podraces surrounded him. A familiar figure in a tight tank top put down her smoldering cigar long enough to wolf whisle in his direction. It was Darth Lara Croft. Mixed with the assorted denizens of different planets were the animated charachters from his video games.
He must be dreaming.
To make it worse, that brat Obi Wan was in the front row, dancing around in low cut, black leather jeans. "I love you, Maul!" he cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled loud enough for the whole stadium to hear. Strains of "The Sandman" started up and somebody threw Maul an electric guitar. The six member band, all dressed like Siths, stared at him. The second he grabbed the guitar, he was thankful he had it. It was the only thing covering his own instrument of love. That and his tattoos, which were turning more than a little pale. You're a Sith, you can handle these fools! the Dark Side said. With a fierce glare at the staring band, Maul sauntered up to the mike and started singing.
"Sleep with one eye open! Hugging your pillow tight...!" he belted out real loud. The microphone protested with feedback that could have shattered the planet's atmosphere. "AAAAAAAAAAARRRGGGGGGH!!!!" Maul shrieked, his anger erupting as he ignited the lightsaber he'd been using to strum the guitar. The crowd cheered him on, loving every minute of his "act". The band kept playing like nothing had changed. The microphone flew and knocked Obi Wan on the head , and he fell almost blissfully backward into the arms of a Jedi Roadkill charachter. "Clean up on aisle 37..." he shouted to no one in paticular as Obi Wan was carried away.
Fluffy Wan appeared in a cloud of red light on the stretcher, and started chewing his way through Obi Wan's braid...
A crowd of padawan groupies who'd been with Obi Wan fought over the smoldering microphone. "I saw it first!"
"So! I caught it first!"
Another padawan used the Force to zip it into his hands and ran off, the others chasing him enraged.
Maul was almost happy. Ah, potential Jedis fighting over a Sith! Life was good! Except for my wanger hanging out...
"Hush little baby, don't you cry..." he growled menacingly, his voice projecting with Force power. Who needed a microphone? He pictured himself standing over the crib of a newborn padawan, wondering what his mother would think of a Sith Lord as his nanny...
"Dreams of war, dreams of lust, dreams of dragon fire...." Maul opened his mouth and fire came blasting out, then dissolved into Sith shaped sparks that all landed on the crowd's lighters and ignited them. They raised them in salute and cheered wildly. The group of padawan groupies had stopped fighting and suddenly converged on the stage to maul Maul. He instantly sent them flying with the Force, but in the process, his guitar went with them.
The crowd cheered louder than ever.
Just then, a huge semi truck came crashing through the back of the stage. There was a Force-loud honk followed by impish laughter. The Sith band flew into the walls so hard they were embedded there like a Dark Side bas relief.
"AAAAAAARRRRGGGGGHHHH!!!" went Darth Maul. His lightsaber still in hand, he sliced it through the truck's tires, and they flattened with a dying cobra-like hiss. The door opened with Force power and a very tiny, very angry green speck in drag hopped out.
Master Yoda levitated up to Maul's face level and got in it - as loudly as was possible for a muppet.
"Slash my tires you will NOT! Pay for this you WILL! Mm!"
The crowd had silenced, and left an interstate-wide path for the now stalled semi. "And what staring at are YOU?" Master Yoda demanded of the audience. Darth Maul growled deep in his throat.
"Get off my stage, little Jedi scum!" he warned.
"Yoda wears a toupee!" a padawan yelled for the audience's benefit. They all roared. Even Maul's mouth twitched in a smile.
Yoda hopped up and down like a cricket on caffeene.
"Wear a toupee I do NOT!" he insisted, as his wig of whispy white hairs flew off his wrinkled green head in the process.
Maul used Force power to extract his fellow band members from the wall. They all ignited their lightsabers and surrounded Yoda...
One of them speared the fallen "hairpiece" and twirled it around the end of his saber. "Anybody for cotton candy?" Yoda hrumphed indignantly.
Maul eyed Yoda's nails and announced to the crowd. "Oh, look, he's even got a chip!"
Yoda retrieved his hand. "Endure this I will NOT! An appointment to keep in Las Vegas I have!"
"Don't worry, runt, we'll call your salon for ya!" one band member said. With an indignant grunt, Yoda waddled off, his tafetta scarf trailing behind him...
Suddenly, a new figure appeared beside Maul...
"Hey, waddya say we blow this joint?"
It was Darth Lara. Maul growled seductively, picked her up, and strode off the stage...
* * *
"Maul, wake up!" Sidious was shaking him. He was in his own bed, in his own room...
Life was cruel...
"Go away..." he muttered, fighting.
Sidious ignored him. "I have a new assignment for you. You're going to Las Vegas, the perfect place to hone your anger."
Maul groaned.
"Come on, my boy!" Sidious said cheerily, pulling him up by Force power.
* * *
Meanwhile in the other room, My Apprentice was happily punching the buttons to her new game, Sith Music Master...