Title: Filbert
Genre: Humor
Summary: During those days, who was there for Anakin when no one else was? Well, during those days, it was only Filbert and Darth Vader. Darth Vader and Filbert... proof that best friends come in all shapes, sizes, and species...
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Curious? Gather 'round, younglings. I have a story to tell. Anakin, devastated after the events of a certain movie you know as Episode III, was a surly and depressed individual. It is with hesitation that I delve deep into such agony, for this story is not at all meant to be a tragedy. It is a method of looking back upon Anakin and Filbert's splendid relationship while it lasted, and of making Filbert live on forever.
Rumor has it, friends, that in his pain and despair, the newly minted Darth Vader, Lord of the Sith, turned to drowning his emotions by consuming alcohol...
And that's where the story begins...
The black-clad Sith Lord stared ruefully at the figure in the doorway.
"I just don't understand you, Lord Vader. Get over it! I mean, you're a flippin Sith Lord! I mean, you wife dies and you can't just suck it up?"
With a small nod, Vader finally spoke. "How would you know anything about grief? You sit around all day in your big poufy chair munching those Force-forsaken Fritos and giggling while watching Oprah re-runs! The only thing you've ever cried over was that one time when the lady at the scary black cloak store gave you a senior citizen discount..." Vader paused. "Were you too stupid to realize that you should also be happy about that? You saved credits!"
Emperor Palpatine, looked thoroughly displeased, wrinkled his already-wrinkled brow and glared at his apprentice. That meant that he had wrinkles within his other wrinkles.
"Watch your tongue, Lord Vader... wait or is that burned off now?" he spat.
Vader scowled. "Go away, old man... your powers are weak..." he murmured strangely. He reached mournfully for a crystal wine glass.
"And if you were at all smart, my apprentice, you'd use your emotion to make you powerful, instead of wallowing here in your egg-shaped prison!"
Vader was no longer listening. He had removed his mask and was in the process of pouring himself a full glass of blood-red Alderaanian wine.
Emperor Palpatine, in quite a huff, turned on his well-hidden heels and marched out, fuming.
Vader stuck his tongue out at the door as it slammed shut. "I do have one, and I might as well use it!" He retorted at no one in particular.
As a sad sigh escaped his system, Darth Vader dumped himself back into his chair, taking a swig of his drink.
Swallowing, he looked down at the well-polished goblet held within his thick gloved mechanical hand. Padmé had given him this particular one for his Life Day one year.
Remembering, he set the glass down, saddened.
Then, he got to thinking. Padmé would have wanted him to move on with his life, but how could he, when he found himself trapped inside a thick-walled prison cell of his own making?
The Dark Side was grim, yes. But surely he could find some way to bring himself out of his free fall?
A knock sounded upon the door, or rather the outer shell of his "egg". Pressing the button that opened the chamber, Darth Vader made sure that his mask was properly in place upon his face once more.
Outside stood a woman, one he instantly recognized.
"Patrice." Vader said, hiding his disappointment. "What a... surprise."
Patrice's overly huge mouth spread into a sickeningly sweet smile. "VADEY!" she squealed, clambering in beside him.
Moaning, Vader protested, but Patrice was deaf to his indignant requests to leave. The chamber became very cramped and uncomfortable.
Patrice, now nearly seated on top of Vader, breathed softly, still smiling widely. "Palps tells me you're blue, baby. And I know just what to do to help!"
No you don't! Vader thought.
Patrice, still excitedly announcing her plan to cheer him up, reached around his big, awkward bulky suit to encompass him in a hug. "Let's go home, darling, and I'll make some food..."
Vader scowled inside his mask, cursing his Master for the billionth time. Sidious has placed him within a very nice space, one of the largest rooms aboard the Star Destroyer, which he unfortunately he to share with the Emperor's dear friend, Patrice.
Patrice, needless to say, had seemed ecstatic at the idea, and, he had noticed, had seemed to view their relationship as much more than forced roommates.
Vader pushed Patrice away, picking up the wine glass and absently twirling it in his fingers. "Patrice, not that I don't appreciate what you are trying to do, all you are doing now is giving me a migraine."
Patrice, undaunted, replied. "I have Tylenol in my purse!" She began to reach from the bag upon her shoulder.
"So do I." Vader muttered, just wishing she would go.
"You have a purse?"
"NO!" Vader hollered. "Of course I DON'T!" If Sith Lords could blush, Vader was surely doing it at that very moment. In a rage, he continued. "GET OUT OF MY EGG!"
Patrice shrugged. "Well, I'll be in the room, if you change your mind, Darthy Boy."
Vader silently shot daggers at her with his eyes as she retreated, blowing him a kiss.
There was evil in that girl. And not a Sithly evil. Another type Vader didn't recognize, and wouldn't until years later...
Relieved to hear the sound of the door slamming behind Patrice, he sighed again, gazed once more at the glass he still held in his hand.
Then, Vader got an idea. A wonderful idea. A perfect idea. Darth Vader got a wonderful, perfect idea!
"The Grinch got a wonderful... awful idea."
"I hate the Grinch." Vader told himself, turning off the holovid that had randomly turned on inside his chamber. "It just interrupted my train of thought... now where was I?...ahhhhhh! I have an idea!"
A lightbulb shone brightly above Vader's head. Scowling, he turned it off. My Master could learn a thing or two about energy conservation... this light does not need to be on during the day!
Stepping out of the "egg," and striding purposefully down the hallway, Vader amended. Or night... the halls are so quiet... everyone's asleep so it must be night.
"HOW IN THE NINE CORELLIAN HELLS ARE WE SUPPOSED TO KNOW WHAT TIME OF DAY IT IS WHEN WE'RE FLOATING USELESSLY IN SPACE EVERY SECOND OF OUR LIVES!" Vader yelled, his voice booming. He turned swiftly upon the viewport. "STARS, STARS STARS! ALL I EVER SEE IS STUPID STARS WHIZZING BY! AND THEN THOSE RETARDED YELLOW LETTERS THAT HIT OUR WINDSHIELD, BUT THOSE DON'T COUNT!"
Silence answered the troubled Sith Lord.
"Force..." Vader wheezed, trying to catch his breath after his rant.
Then, straightening, he cursed loudly in Huttese. "WHY AM I YELLING AGAIN! OH YEAH! I HAD AN IDEA THAT I WOULD BUY MYSELF A PET AND THERE WAS A LIGHTBULB AND..."
Vader stopped, as he noticed a lone Imperial officer standing, leaning upon a ratty mop, his eyes as large as saucers.
"WHAT ARE YOU STARING AT?" Vader screamed.
The man remained completely still, paralyzed by his fear, and, unbeknownst to Vader, peeing his evergreen-colored pants.
Vader seemed to calm slightly, noticing the bucket of water. "Night shift, eh?"
The man dropped the mop and ran. "AHHHH MOMMYYYYY!"
Vader shrugged. "The nerve of some people. I mean I KNOW HE WAS A FREAKIN JANITOR TYPE GUY BUT HOW DARE HE MOP IN MY PRESENCE?"
No one answered. Vader, realizing he was screaming at no one, quieted. What am I doing? What would Padmé think if she saw me now?
A cartoony image of his beautiful deceased wife popped into his mind, her eyes bugging out quite like the man's who had just exited.
She would question my mental health. Vader thought, half ruefully, half amusedly.
Would she be right to?
Vader shook his masked head in shame, and began to walk back toward the hall where he and Patrice's room was.
He distractedly noticed he was still holding the wine glass. Then, randomly, the Sith burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter.
It boomed and echoed around the ship and Vader's free hand clutched at his side.
But then, it happened.
Vader, deliriously chuckling, stepped into a puddle of water (or so he thought) left by the janitor.
"MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA...WHOOP!" With a thud, Vader landed on his backside.
Groaning, he sat up slowly, reminding himself that the plus side of having a mostly artificial body was that he felt virtually no pain.
But, he was saddened to discover that before him, shards of broken glass were strewn everywhere.
But then, a glimmer caught his eye. Reaching forward, Vader picked up a piece of the shattered cup.
This jagged section had a distinct texture and shape. And as Vader looked at it, he received another idea that would set into motion a chain of events that would ultimately change his life forever.
But, I'm getting ahead of myself.
Upon that piece of glass, a perfect row of designs caught Vader's eye. There, depicted upon a broken goblet, was his future.
What was on it, you ask?
A small group of little creatures from the family Rana stared back at Vader.
Vader thought excitedly. Force, I'm getting a frog!
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I must tell you, Patrice was none too pleased with Vader's idea of getting a pet frog. But as it turns out, she couldn't do a thing to stop him.
Vader began buying frogs in succession, replacing ones that would die with others. And he grew to like having frogs.
His first frog was appropriately named Padmé Reincarnated. And, according to legend, and Vader himself, this name was not only given as a way of paying homage to Vader's beloved former wife... there has been speculation that the spirit of Padmé lived on within the little green body of Vader's pet frog.
Assuming those speculations aren't false, we continue the story. Padmé, as lovely and Senator-like as she was, did not live forever. Soon, Vader was faced with her passing, upon which the spirit of his dead wife was once again reborn... in the form of a garage door handle.
Vader was extremely grieved, naturally, but soon picked out a new best friend.
This frog, he named Gravity.
Gravity was not the smartest of frogs. And it is rumored also that Gravity and Vader's bond was not nearly as strong as those that he shared with other frogs.
A few months after Gravity entered Vader's life, he exited while the two were on a vacation on Naboo. He was hit by an air taxi.
Vader, observing from his spot by the lake, mused. "Ohhuup. There goes Gravity."
And Vader hated Eminem, namely rap songs in general.
Next in line were two lively young frogs, Joe Bob and Mindy. Joe Bob and Mindy, like all of Vader's previous frogs, annoyed the hell out of
Patrice, being mischievous little animals. Vader didn't mind the payback.
But he only owned Joe Bob and Mindy for about three weeks. You see, Patrice had a stupid obsession with orange soda. In a rapid craving, Patrice desperately sold Joe Bob and Mindy on Ebay to a biology teacher, gaining the $2 she needed to run down to the drugstore on Coruscant and buy herself a can. I told you she was evil, didn't I? Just you wait...
Vader, still impervious to the bad luck he was having with his new pets, moved on, next buying the one frog that would change his life and that he would love unconditionally as a best friend.
You guessed it: Filbert.
Now that you know Filbert's beginning, sadly, I must tell you of his end. And then, may this story become a puzzle, each chapter filling in the spaces between each event and hopefully making a Filbert fan out of you yet!
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Now begins the evil of Patrice. I never liked that woman...
Patrice's eyes rested upon the place where Filbert sat, quietly watching a show on the Discovery Channel about sheep. Filbert had a soft spot for sheep...
Jealousy filled Patrice as she thought of the attention "Vadey" gave to Filbert. Attention she craved so! Filbert and Vader had formed such a bond that Vader even allowed the small talking creature to call him "Anakin". No one else was allowed to do it! No one but the pitful animal that lay before her eyes.
A plan already coming into being within her twisted mind, Patrice leapt into the room, pouncing upon the frog.
An unsuspecting Filbert was hurried away from the holovid screen.
Never to be seen alive again...
Anakin walked in, cheerily humming some song he'd learned from Filbert. However he was slightly concerned as he saw that the show about sheep remained flashing on the screen, but Filbert was nowhere in sight.
Filled with dread, Anakin sprinted for the bathroom, following his senses.
There, he found a sheepish-looking Patrice, wiping her hands off and smiling... again.
Filbert was dead. Flushed alive.
The evil of Patrice was revealed, and in an agonized howl, Anakin fell to his knees.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! FILLLLLLLLLLBBBBBBBBBBBEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRTTTTTTTT!"
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Don't be too saddened, kind folks. For the spirit of Filbert lives on within the cotton stuffing of a stuffed animal and within this story. And hopefully soon... he will live in your heart as well.
From this point forth, I shall fill in the blanks that you no doubt have in mind, and each chapter of this story shall recount a different event in the relationship between Anakin and Filbert.
Brace yourselves.
One day...
