The Writer does not own Star Wars or any of its related ships, characters, weapons, etc. These are property of Lucasarts. If Lucasarts wishes it, then this story will be removed from the web. However, the Writer IS having his own Super Star Destroyer built, and then he will own Star Wars! He will own the galaxy! He will own YOU!
This is a little bunch of short little ficlets I have composed about the adventures of the primary four Executor-class Star Dreadnoughts, Executor (commanded by Admiral Piett), Lusankya (Ysanne Isard), Iron Fist (Warlord Zsinji), and (K)Night's Hammer (Admiral Daala). Occasionally we'll have others join the four in battle (or against them). This first is one of their monthly Star Poker games, which were originally featured in my Neon Genesis Evangelion fiction, NERV Psychiatric Ward. Please note that their original personalities have been completely destroyed and SOMETHING has taken their places.
There are no rules here. The characters will do whatever amuses the Writer (And you, if you know what's good for you. he's not kidding. He hung the last person who didn't laugh at his joke out on a bird feeder with a garden hose, and then-ga-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-ak! Hmph. Serves him right).
Well, now my announcements and shit are done with, so I reluctantly present this odd little fic.
A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…STAR-R-R WARS-S-S-S!
(do-ot-do-ot-do-ot) STAR-R-R WARS-S-S-S!
LA-DA-DE-E-E-E!
We honestly don't know when all of
this takes place, and we honestly
don't care. We're making a humor
fanfiction here. Who cares when
it takes place? But then, we suppose,
we wouldn't bother writing this, and
we'd all die…
Anyway, there's a lot of s-t (Yes, thanks to the
new system, we have to put hyphens in between
asterisks) going on in the galaxy. Four wierdos have
gotten their hands on a big new toy called the
Executor-class Star Dreadnought (Incorrectly called
a Super Star Destroyer) that some baboon writing the
original technical manual is always labeling the ship
as 8 kilometers long (said baboon recently changed
statement to 12.8 kilometers) but is really proven to
be 17.6 kilometers long (www . the force . net / swtc /)
many millions of times, and is said to only have 250
of each kind of gun, which is a ridiculously low number
for a ship of that size, and if that were true, then Lira
Wessex (Blissex? The Writer can't remember) would
be crazy(ier).
These four strange commanders are called Piett, Isard,
Zsinji, and Daala. Daala and Isard are really, really lucky,
because we know how much Emperor Palpatine hates women
(WHY, we don't know. He probably lacks a penis). And they
shall amuse you as far as the Writer wishes them, and if you
don't laugh the Writer will unleash his pet super-refined berserker
known only as the Author on you. Then our friends in command
will dine on your flesh and (The Penguin Board of Censors has
determined the extremely violent descriptions here inappropriate
for human viewing. Thank You).
Now, watch as the screen falls away into nothingness and your eyes land on a
P
L
A
N
E
T
(That last bit was originally done in the scrolling format at the beginning of the movies. Unfortunately, the upload process screws up formats, and so, it is like it is. That's why it looks so wierd.)
A massive triangular object flew in on top of yourviewpoint.
It kept on going.
And going.
And going.
And going.
And going.
And going.
And going.
And going
And going.
And going.
And going.
And G-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-ING…
Hell, it even went on longer than Spaceball One.
And though we eventually got to see the engines, to our dismay, the Writer had ripped from Star Wars's beloved spoof, Spaceballs. The rear fender bore a kilometer-wide bumper sticker reading 'WE BRAKE FOR NOBODY'.
On the bridge of the Executor Admiral Piett was grinning with anticipation. The bridge crew was looking at him strangely.
Luitenant Commander Data, who was warped in for this scene specifically, walked up to Piett.
"Admiral," He said "We have reached the rendezvous point. And, if I may, sir," Data asked "Why do you have that ridiculous grin plastered all over your face?"
"Because Daala just got out of NERV Psychiatric Ward, and, as a present to ourselves, we gave Daala the credits to go buy us some GERMAN BEER!" Piett laughed. "Oh, I'm so HAPPY!"
"I cannot share your sentiment, sir." The android replied. "I do not have normally-functioning tastebuds, as you do, and I only make thirty thousand credits a year, and cannot afford German beer."
"Amazing." Piett sighed. "The Writer is only thirteen, but he's already raving about German beer. What does this tell you about the Galaxy's youth these days?"
"That the Writer has a good sense of humor, sir." Daata replied. "And he advises that you agree with this sentiment. He has a horde of evil monsters at his command, including the combined Armed Forces of Orlando Bloom fandom."
A picture popped up on Piett's console. It was Legolas, brandishing his bow. Meanwhile, some ten million of his fans surged through the gates of Minas Tirith, mauling Sauron with their horn-rimmed maces.
"I see what you mean." The admiral cringed.
F-Z-Z-Z-Z-Z-Z-Z-Z-Z-Z-Z-Z-Z-Z-Z-Z-Z-Z-Z-Z-T-B-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-M!
"AAAAAAAAAGH!" Piett screamed, being thrown from his chair by the impact of two more Super Star Destroyers emerging from hyperspace right on top of Executor. Commander Data suffered a brain malfunction and exploded against the back wall, thus disposing of an annoying character that the Writer would have gotten sick of in only five minutes, thus eliminating a major problem in the writing of this…thing…
Two large holographic images of his felllow SSD commanders popped up. Ysanne Isard, on Lusankya, and Zsinji, on Iron Fist. Isard screamed first.
"PIETT! WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU DOING IN OUR EXIT VECTOR?"she yelled, her red eye burning like the fires in Hell. "DO YOU KNOW HOW HIGH THE INSURANCE PREMIUMS ARE ON THESE THINGS? AND GAS IS EVIL ALREADY! I DON'T NEED TO BE PAYING MY INSURANCE COMPANIES TWO HUNDRED BILLION MORE CREDITS A YEAR, YOU KNOW!"
Piett recovered quickly. "WELL, I'M NOT THE ONE WHO HAD TO GO AND RAM A FRIGGIN YUUZHAN VONG WORLDSHIP! I MEAN, COME ON! IT'S NOT MY FAULT YOUR PREMIUMS WENT UP!"
"THAT WAS A GODDAMNED REBEL WHO GAVE THAT ORDER, NOT ME!" Isard screamed even louder. The window panes on Piett's bridge were starting to crack.
"SEE IF I CARE! IN FACT, BITE ME!"
The bridges on both ships became deadly quiet. Then, Isard's image began to glow. Her eye looked like it was about to explode. And then, a loud whining came over the comm as Isard's eye glowed a bright white. And then-
FZAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAKb-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-t!
Isard and Zsinji(Who hadn't said a word since the beginning of the chapter, and was looking very small at the moment)'s blinked out of existence, into static. The hologram projector in the middle of the room started to steam, it's circuits completely fried.
…
…
…
"…Laser eyes are…sweet…" Piett muttered, still in awe.
"Correction." Data's severed head said from the back of the room. "Laser eyes are so amazingly, totally, sweet. I must look in to getting so-"
BLAM!
Twenty blasters went off at once, effectively removing Data from this story.
And then the Knight Hammer came.
"Hey everybody!" Daala giggled, skipping up and down the bridge. "Don't fight! I'VE GOT GERMAN BEER!"
…Things eased up a bit from there.
BrainFillerChapter One End
NEXT EPISODE…
We get to see what happens at the poker game! E-e-YAY! (Hint: It involves BEER!)
Author's Crap
And so…
O-o-o-o-o-o-o-kay…
The first chapter of my first Star Wars fic… How did I do?
Please, tell me. I love to hear your comments.
Know now, though, that I have been flamed only once, and said evil, horribly mislead reviewer was beaten to death with a massive, red, wide brimmed hat. You in Hellsing know the one I'm talking about.
Fin.