Meanwhile, aboard an Imperial Star Destroyer, a lot of activity was going around...
Officers, technicians, and other officials were working on a weapon for the Empire. This such weapon, was a metallic ball-shaped space station the size of a planet. This space station had the power of a thousands suns and could destroy a thousand suns in the same day.
It was here, amidst all the activity, where Orson Krennic, approached his longtime rival: a citrus fruit about his age by the name of Tart-Kin. Tart-Kin was to become the Grand Moff, and he and Orson would constantly fight for the attention of Verdura.
"Hello, Clementine." Sighed Orson.
"Greetings, Krennic." Said Clementine.
"How's the baby?" Said Tart-kin with a smirk.
"Whatever do you mean?" Asked Orson.
"You know perfectly well..." said Tart-kin. "It's because you're so--" Tart-kin inhaled, puffing up his cheeks and stomach. He then pointed at Krennic.
Orson scoffed.
'How dare he do that' he thought.
"Well, I'm not the one with all the CGI on his face, now am I?!" He exclaimed.
Tart-kin clenched his teeth. He advanced foreword, poking Orson in the stomach.
"Now see here, marshmallow-man!"
"Oh--It is on like Donkey Kong, cartoon-face!"
Orson and Tart-kin continued to taunt, about to engage in a fistfight.
"Gentlemen, PLEASE!" Said an officer trying to break them up.
"...Stuck-up narcissist!"
"Know what little children say when they see you? They're like "Oh my
gosh, Mama, look it's Baymax! Can I hug him?" That's right..."
"Grand Moff--'Grandma' seems a bit more appropriate don't you think!!?"
"GEN-TLE-MEN!!!" Exclaimed the officer. "Aren't you aware that there are more pressing matters to attend to other than calling each other names like CHILDREN?!!!"
"Oh, yeah..."
"Right."
"Now then.." the officer turned and adressed Orson like a drill sergeant. "Have you Galen Erso?"
"Yes." Said Orson. "The wife and child are dead as well."
"Wonderful." Said the officer. "Report this information back to Lord Verdura at once."
"I shall." Said Orson. "The two of you are dismissed."
The officer and Tart-kin walked away, so did Orson.
Suddenly he stopped. Orson blinked his eyes. He rapidly started inhaling, for he felt very light-headed.
"oh..my...I...Imustremovethisthing!!"
"HEY YOU!!" He called to a Stormtrooper.
"Me, Sir?" The Stormtrooper turned around.
"YES YOU!" Replied Orson. "GET--GET THIS WRETCHED CONSTRICTOR OFF ME THIS INSTANT!!"
"Okay! Okay!"
Lifting up Orson's uniform, the poor trooper was now (unfortunately) one of the first people to discover the deepest darkest secret of Director Krennic: around the circumference of his red, tight, blotchy waist was a black velvet women's corset.
The Stormtrooper fiddled with the knots until he got the extremely constricting piece off.
(*KER-BLOOOOOORP!*)
"Finally!!" Orson let out a loud gasp. He rubbed his aching midsection. "...I can breeeeathe..." sighed Orson.
Galen wasn't kidding when he mentioned Orson's "problem".
Orson Krennic, the man who frequently clashed with Tart-kin, the man who was always so refined and proper in his pure white suit...had a beer gut.
A very, very large, distended beer gut.
To conceal his "big" problem, he would wear that corset which made him feel alright for a while...until of course, he needed to breathe.
"Yeesh!" Said the Stormtrooper, gazing at the sphere of plush fat covered in angry red stretch marks before him. "Sir, you need to really cut back on the--the everything!"
He couldn't help but laugh and poke his commanding officer, watching his girth ripple.
"Don't LAUGH!!" Exclaimed Orson,
stomach shaking. "And don't prod me either. Just make sure you don't tell anyone about this or that no one sees me like this for the next five hours or you're FIRED!! THAT'S AN
ORDER!!"
"Yes sir." The Stormtrooper closed the door and left.
(*BLHBLHBLHBLmmRRRRGHHH...*)
Orson's stomach growled and sloshed. He looked out the door and called to the Stormtrooper;
"...AND BRING ME A BEER WHEN YA GET BACK!"
