"I've got a bad feeling about this," Luke muttered to himself as his gaze settled on the next house. It appeared abandoned, and were it not for a few puffs of smoke coming from the chimney, he would have thought it so. There was a good chance that there were no little Flobobettes at this residence, so he would, unfortunately, not be able to repeat his success he had had with the 'lightsaber cage.' This house looked so unlike all the other Flobian houses. It was dark and dismal.

"Remember Luke, let the force be your guide," he told himself. Well, there was no time like the present. He knocked on the door and a young man answered. He had wild, uncombed black hair, wore wrinkled space clothes that looked like they had been slept in for several nights, and he was smoking a death stick. He took a long puff and exhaled. His eyes were flat and uninterested, and stared at Luke.

"You can't help me," he moaned darkly. "No one can."

Luke was unsure how to respond to this. He finally decided to ignore it and carry about his business as usual. "Hello, my name is Luke Skywalker and I'm going door to door giving people like yourself the opportunity to experience…"

"I don't have any money," he said.

"Well, that's not a problem," said Luke cheerfully. "My company does extend credit to those in need, because they don't want anyone to miss out on this once-in-a-lifetime deal."

"What is it?"

"I'll show you, may I come in for a moment?"

"Whatever," said the young man. He flung himself lifelessly on the couch. He mechanically offered Luke a deathstick, but the Jedi politely refused.

"You don't want to give me a deathstick," said Luke hypnotically, with a wave of his hand.

The young Flobian man looked thoughtful for a moment. "You're right," he said. "I'm broke and this is my last pack."

Luke sighed and opened his case. He pulled out the latest model in lightsabers. He ignited it and was pointing out its beauty and design, when the young Flobian suddenly perked up.

"Wow," he said as he gazed upon it in wonder. "What a weapon."

Luke froze, somehow not quite expecting this. Quickly he cleared his throat. "Oh, oh no. This—this isn't a weapon."

The young Flobian man looked at him as if he were a fool. "Of course it is, what else would it be."

"Well, it's not a weapon."

"Is too."

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is."

"This is not a weapon! It says right here on the tag, 'intentional misuse of this product can have serious consequences. Keep out of reach of children. For use in battle and intergalactic conflicts and…' Ah, this is an outdated tag. I'll try to get this off here…anyway, it is not a weapon."

While Luke fumbled with the product tag, the young Flobian man groaned in utter agony. "Oh, what a cruel universe. Must I be tortured like this every day of my life! I can't take it, I just can't take it anymore. Where're my deathsticks! Where are they?" He nervously grabbed his pack of deathsticks, and Luke wondered at his pitiful and dramatic display. The young man's hands shook as he struggled to light his deathstick, but his lighter seemed to be out of fuel.

Click…click…click…click…click

Nothing doing.

"Oh, cruel world!" shouted the young man. "Come on, you. Light!" Then Luke had an idea.

"Allow me," said Luke, and with his lightsaber he lit the young man's deathstick.

"Ah," the young Flobian finally relaxed again, and he curiously eyed the lightsaber. "So this is a lighter?" he asked.

"You are correct," said Luke proudly. "The deluxe model lightsaber lighter. It doesn't need fuel, so it lights for life." Lights for life…that's good, I'll have to write that down, Luke thought.

"I'll take it," he said.

"Very good," said Luke. "Here is a credit application for you to fill out."

Inwardly Luke beamed. Another sale for the day.