Warning, this amazingly well thought out fanfic contains offensive jokes en par with those your grandma cracks at Christmas dinner when she finally has an excuse to open that bottle of Korn...

-Dahhhhh Dahh Dudududu Daaaa Da – Dadadadadda!-

Right after the awards ceremony in Episode IV Luke and his newfound BFF (the smuggler of questionable "spices", that "lack" the ability to get you high) hold a discussion in the hangar of Yavin IV. They are alone because Princess Leia decided to wear Ugg boots and Yoga pants today, causing every rebel man's mind to revert to frat boy level and to run off masturbating in sexual deprivation. Due to her unfortunate kidnapping last week, these poor men had to endure a whole month without seeing a woman. Poor suckers!

(Mon Mothma doesn't count because she looks and dresses like mixture between a PE teacher and Armish priestess.)

-Nanananaa-

'They are posh, they are stuck up, they are incredibly old! Vampires, Luke. I swear, I swear on my Mother's Gucci Purse.' Han screamed.

Luke was shaking his head. 'I find it hard to believe that you actually saw Vampires, Han. Sure you haven't been smoking too much of the good ole' Oregano?'

'Shh, not so loud, I don't want people to be asking me for my stuff. Damn rebels, they have more issues than a teenage emo girl.'

'Obviously! They all lost their families and loved ones. People don't become rebels for nothing. After all, there's actual careers in the empire, with a 401K and proper health insurance, like "accountant"!'

Han shrugged. 'Well, I don't really care, not do I enjoy filing taxes, annoys me that I can't write off my smuggling as a commute, my point is: Vampires, Luke! And you are the only one who can help me fight them.'

Luke sighed and rubbed his forehead in deep thought. Surely Han might be exaggerating again, but what if there really were vampires? Not really that hard to believe in this world filled with sand nomads, desert rats... and sand nomads (yeah, Luke's world up to this point was about as spectacular as that log felling tv show on the history channel, can't really blame the poor fella).

'Okay, ask yourself this Luke. Do you really have anything better to do at this point. I'm promising you this, you wont get any action until 1980!'

Luke resigned. 'Fine, but only if I get your mother's Gucci Purse. I want to impress that Princess, she is pretty sweet on the eye.'

'If you want to, though I wouldn't recommend it, she'll probably assume you're gay when she sees you prancing around with that thing.'

Luke nodded. Han was probably right. After all, he always looked like he knew what he was talking about. 'Yeah, maybe I should just give it to her as a present.'

-Da Da Dam Dadada Dadada-

'Lord Vader, we just observed a ship resembling that fatal X-Wing leaving Yarvin Airspace. We are assuming the pilot who blew up the Deathstar might be on it.'

Vader wanted to sigh, which was impossible, so instead he had long ago resigned to substitute sighs with long deep mechanical breaths, they had a similar effect to vegan cheese: not very convincing, and pretty weird too... but they did the job …poorly.

'How many times have I told you not to call him that?' he yelled. 'It sounds too threatening, our Propaganda Officer has christened him with a new name.'

'My appologies, Lord Vader. We are assuming that Snowqueen Icedragon is on the ship.'

'That is correct, I can feel him, thanks to the force. The force of him raping my insides, -like a chipotle burrito! Now don't just sit around, follow that motherfucker!'

'Don't you mean fatherfucker?' His officer corrected him (for the last time in his career, -before Vader killed him).

-Nuhnuhnuhnuhuuuuh-

'Where are we headed anyway?' A wide eyed Luke wanted to know.

'To a little place called Corouscant. It should come as quite a shock to you. It's population actually exceeds 2000.'

'2000? You gotta be kidding me! Are they counting their desert rats too?'

'Yes Luke, they are.'

'Oh, okay then, that makes more sense.' Luke replied, and smiled. 'But still, over 2000. Wow! That is more densely packed than H20 at 4 degrees Celsius!'

'Stop cross referencing everything with science, kid. Makes you sound stupid.' Han told him while lighting a bowl of nutmeg in his apple bong.

-Dahhhhh Dahh Dudududu Daaaa Da – Dadadadadda!-

Han and Luke arrived in the grand hall of the senate of Corouscant, where a bunch of politicians were sitting in a circle playing bingo and talking about their loose bowels.

'I thought you said they were vampires, Han. These are politicians.'

'They are snobby Bloodsucker with a dress sense more pretentious than the costumes of a Shakespeare play, and they're all really, really old! They're basically vampires.'

'Yeah, you are right. Wow Han, you are so smart!'

Han wiggled his eyebrows while taking a hit of a honey glazed lavender joint. 'I know. Now be careful, don't let them suck you in, they can be very convincing. After all, they are all Gluten free!'

'Gluten intollerant?'

No, my dear friend, Gluten free!'

'Wow, in that case they must convincing.'

'Certainly, be careful, or you'll be eating bread baked with potato flour for the rest of your life. And unless you're Russian, nobody should be consuming that much starch, - or eat potato in any form other than a yellow ball.'

'But isn't bread a yellow ball too?'

'Not that yellow. It is more a middle Eastern shade, if you catch my drift.'

'Ohhh... no, not really, actually.'

Han was shaking his head. 'Who the fuck is too naïve for racism? What are you, Swiss?'

'So what do we do now?'

'Shoot them with silver bullets.'

'Isn't that for werewolf though?'

'No, it's for killing.'

Luke looked confused, so Han explained: 'They induce death... to everyone.'

'Oh, does silver have some rare property?'

'Yes: Hardness.'

They fight. And win. The galaxy is saved. No need for episode V, or VI, ...or VII.

After the fight:

'You owe me that Gucci Purse.'

'Are you really that retarded. Do I look like my family can afford Gucci?' Han grumbled, while trying his best not to cough after having taken a huge hit from his salvia loaded glass pipe.

'Hm, what else can you offer me?'

Han shrugged then pulled out his Koriander charged vaporizer pen. 'Here, you can use this to make some amazing Chicken Tikka Masala.'

'No thanks, I don't want to break the law. But how about we stop by San Naboorino and get some counterfeit wallets? With some luck, the jawas forgot to empty them out after stealing them off the tourists they just sold them to.'

'Sounds like a plan, I've been meaning to get rid of my thyme anyway.'