Chapter 2 - The Bourgeois Collection of General Grievous.
We heard a strange noise and a rumbling sound as the ship misogynistically began to break down. "Obi Wan, did you hear that?" I asked my beautiful comrade. He looked deeply into my eyes and was about to reply when we heard the strange noise again.
"Master!" it said in the whiny underage voice of teenage consumerism. "Sky-guy, be my master!" screamed Ahsoka running towards me in an inappropriate and irritating way that reminded me of the way that sand was coarse, rough, irritating and got everywhere.
"NO ACTUALLY FUCK OFF." I roared.
She opened her simpering, capitalist mouth to reply but before she could make a sound I heard a familiar OPPRESSIVE cough.
"General Grievous." I turned around "You're shorter than I expected." I said, even though it was a stupid line and I had already met Grievous before.
"General Skywalker," he said coughing again because obviously his fucking respirator had been poorly designed, probably because it was manufactured by a company that FUCKING EXPLOITS THE THIRD WORLD WORKING CLASS.
"Hello there," said my Comrade husband.
"General Kenobi," said Grievous, his brain was so small that it was all he could do to repeat people's names. "You are a bold one."
"That's right Grievous. We are going to kill you in the name of THE FUCKING PEOPLE so that we can spread our FUCKING REVOLUTION!" Cried Obi Wan, looking quite gorgeous.
"You fool. I've been trained in the Jedi arts by COUNT DOOKU THE FEUDALIST PRICK WHO SUCKS ON THE PENIS OF CAPITALISM."
"Now listen up here, you huge sack of shit," I said proletariatly to Grievous. "There's more to Jedi arts that waving around lightsabers like you're a ceiling fan. The Jedi are a bunch of capitalist tyrannical fundamentalist bozos who use their religion as an opiate of the people and FUCKING OPPRESS THE GALAXY AND ENSLAVE IT TO THEIR SHILL REGIME OF CAPITALISM."
"Did you say lightsaber?" asked Grievous breathing loudly, irritatingly, coarsely and roughly through his faulty respirator. "Your lightsaber…. That will make a fine addition to my collection," he said bourgeoisly, opening his dumb cape to reveal lots of lightsabers that he had oppressively stolen from working class families. Obi Wan and I gasped in horror at such unequal concentration of wealth and Grievous' materialistic values.
We ignited our red lightsabers communistically but before we could fight we heard the rumbling sound again. "The ship is crashing we have to leave!" cried a droid with false consciousness that hadn't been liberated by our revolution yet.
"Time to abandon ship," heaved General Grievous coughing up some bourgeois phlegm out of his respirator and he crawled off like an overgrown spider.
"Should we go after him?" I asked my husband. He creased his brow in deep thought and he looked very Marxist.
Suddenly, Qui Gon's force ghost appeared and began to speak in the voice of KARL MARX HIMSELF. "Go Comrades you must escape, you are too important to the revolution to die trying to kill Grievous."
"Yeah that's true," I said socialistically. "We can always send him some of the Communist centipedes like Comrade Jango Fett sent Padme."
We were about to get into the escape pod to escape and continue to spread our FUCKING REVOLUTION when we realised that Grievous had already escaped in it.
"Fuck what are we going to do now," I wailed in working class desperation to my husband. "We have to get back to Coruscant to get our babies out of Padme's womb we can't die here," I cried.
We were almost overcome with despair at the thought of Padme raising our poor babies in such a bourgeois and excessive lifestyle when suddenly R2D2 trundled up...
