Star Wars: The Parody Strikes Back



Part Five



The crowd stretched on for tens of meters. The ocean of flowing heads, all moving and bobbing in some complicated rhythm. It helped being the tallest one here in a way, he could observe anyone from anywhere in the main foyer. The bad thing was that people just kept asking him how the humidity was up there. A band was playing some rather inelegant music. The golden humanoid shape of C3P0 was in front of him. The droid was enjoying himself, it was one of the few occasions a Protocol droid could practice what it was programmed to do with out getting a rude remark or blow to its face. That reminded him, C3P0's face looked rather new, did he have another one-sided run-in with an officer? C3P0 was the same shade of gold as those curved instruments the band was playing. If he twisted C3P0 into a pretzel and blew into one of the newly created holes, while pressing its buttons, he might get a similar sound. C3P0 said to him, "Yes, master Chewbacca, I have the King Arthur's Knights on file. A rather adventurous and romantic tale. A human classic."



Master? He'd never been called that by anyone but C3P0, that's why he liked to talk to C3P0. It'd never called him by that annoying nickname 'Chewy.' What was he, a granola bar? "Quite a chauvinist piece of literature. The knights were bullies, and the women submissive. The whole 'chivalry' thing is quite the opposite of the understood reality of the time. And the cruel use of the those massive four-legged creatures, Hurzes, were they called?" he said, in his native language. Humans had described it as sounding like a tigress giving birth, a gargling panther, or a neutered elephant. What a bunch of ignorant creatures. He'd have to learn this 'English' someday.



"Horses they were called, Horses. Well, I suppose everybody needs a dream to look up. It's just the way they lived then. Oh, wait shall we switch back to the stereotypical conversation?" Some people were heading their way. Not wanting to shatter the human's little preconceptions about him quite yet, C3P0 pretended it was talking to a uncivilized barbarian. "I'd say we're about 10 stories above the ground. No, I don't know how to fly. Why would I need to? Hey! Get your hands off of me! Help!" He set down the droid when the guards arrived, he had his fun.



He strolled away, quite happy. He itched on the arm. Blasted fur mites, the things were quite annoying. He must spend a hour or two each day scratching or trying to kill the things. What he need was some kind of device that emits a odor to drive off the things. Maybe a band around the wrist or something. He noticed that another intoxicated human was marking his territory on a fern in the corner of the room. That must have been the 5th human to do so this hour. Funny how none of them cared that the fern had already been marked. None of the supposed masters of the territory stopped to defend it. He half excepted a line to form in front of the fern. The poor thing couldn't take much more, it was already turning yellow and wilting from the acidity.



The music changed to a track he recognized, the "Blue Danube." Recently he'd learned how to do human dances. A rather acrobatic feat, but he'd learned it. All he now needed was a partner. He looked around, and spotted someone. Princess Leia, he'd met her before. He walked up and said, "Would you care to dance?" In his own language. It sounded to her like "Grawllluu, raaauuckk, gruuufff?" She must have interpreted it as, "Get out of my way," for she moved away from him, with a rather disgusted look on her face. He didn't smell that bad, did he? When you're covered in fur, water suddenly become a difficult enemy to get off of you. So maybe that's why the fern was wilting. Since language didn't work he held out his paw to indicate his intentions.



First she looked rather surprised, then she burst out laughing. After a minute, she finally calmed down and consented. Then she began laughing again she realized he was competent. What was she on, crack? Well, those around them began to laugh as well. Taking his mind off them and onto Leia. What was with the hair? It looked like a pastry. After the waltz had finished, he released her and looked at the next stage of the celebration.



The were stringing up pinatas of Darth Vader. A rather unusual custom. They called down Skywalker to destroy the pinatas. The legendary hero was drunk. He took some rather pathetic swipes at it. He nearly took off an officers arm. Before somebody sane suggested that Luke take a break, he made contact with the pinata. The thing burst into flames. Wow, what good pyrotechnics, this was a most entertaining custom. Then fiery bits of the pinata rained down on Luke. That looked like fun. His tunic had caught fire though. He didn't seem to notice. He was offering to whack the next pinata with the other end of the light saber. Quickly his offer was turned down as a fire extinguisher put out the blaze. He stumbled back to the food stand he'd spent of the evening around. At least he thought it was evening. The sun had set, but three moons were up, bathing the world in reflected light. There was too much light. The night here only lasted 8 hours.



Then Solo came into the dance floor. He was clothed only in a pair of pants and a shirt. For all these terribly overdressed humans, he was looking more natural. Considering what they acted like when 'civilized' he'd hate to see them in the wild. However Solo was not getting in touch with his inner being, he had lost several rounds of strip poker to officers in some back room. His gambling debts were getting quite high. The bounty on the bounty hunter's head was equal to the bounty on head of the bounty hunter Boba Fett. So, if Hans Solo killed himself, he, Chewbacca, would be paid 85,000 credits. Hmm... accidents could happen, but he didn't want to think about it now; he had a headache.



Then he heard a yell from the balcony and saw Luke Skywalker smack into the floor face first. He didn't move, but the expression on the others' faces was that he was only unconscious. He turned and saw R2D2 still on his head, spinning and beeping. It'd been doing that for the past two hours. That thing's battery was going to run low. Where were the engineers that programmed R2D2 to do that?



Just then the roar of engines were heard and the outline of a spaceship was seen outside one of the large windows. From the look of the ship, it was... the Slave One! That was Boba Fett's ship. The Wookie dived into the air away from the window as the ship opened fire. The windows shattered, plaster disintegrated, and pinatas were vaporized. He looked behind him to see a good portion of the crowd that was in the line of fire were either dead or wounded.



Then the ship set down just outside the palace. Why did it do that, he wondered. Was the ship out of ammunition? Were the remaining guests out of the line of fire? Did Boba Fett have to use the fern really badly? And why hadn't he fired any missiles? Before he could ponder this anymore, the spherical shapes of Thermal Detonators were spread like confetti into the main foyer. If it weren't for the fact the dozens lay dead, he would have appreciated the light show. The armored shape of Boba Fett then marched onto the dance floor, spraying fire from his Imperial Heavy Repeater: A machine blaster he would find bulky.



Luke was unconscious, the guards being mowed down, but there were still the two Jedi he had seen earlier. James and Leon were side by side. They took out their lightsaber in unison and ignited them at the same time. Alas, they were too close to each other, and when the lightsaber ignited, they impaled each other. Ah yes, Jedi, smarter than the average Protozoa.



Then back to Boba Fett, who was methodically laying waste to Rebel Command. Out of nowhere Hans Solo did a diving roll and stood up face to face with Boba. For a split second both had guns within centimeters of each others head. Let's see, Boba Fett had extensive body armor, a jet pack, a massive gun, and extensive training. Hans Solo had a thin shirt, leg power, a blaster pistol (which had been smuggled in), and the power of improvising. Who had the advantage? He might as well charge in, and save him before he got himself killed. Hans' brilliant plan: Knee Boba Fett in the crotch. He was wearing body armor, and the pain in Hans' face was a good reminder. Before Hans could be shot, the charging Wookie body slammed Boba. Being on your back and see and mad Wookie on top of you would count as a unnerving situation. Boba's response was to fire his jet pack. Flying backward and into and a recovering guard, Boba then lifted off into the air, firing. Great, now his fur was singed. He probably have to shave off most of the fur on his legs and let it grow back.



Boba Fett was darting about like a bee, firing, and killing more guards and guests. But now that everyone had recovered from the surprise, the guards were returning fire. It was Hans though, that fired the shots, not at the body armor, which had been reflecting shots, but at the jet pack. The first dozen shots all missed, Boba was going too fast. Eventually Boba flew into a chandelier, and Hans got a good shot off, hitting the jet pack. It burst into flames, and Boba fell onto one of the pinatas, and then onto the floor. The guy had burns across his entire back and legs, and had dropped the gun onto the guard he had rammed into earlier.



Not finished yet, he launched a grappling hook from his arm and shot it out the window he had blasted and snagged the interior of his ship. Quickly he pulled himself back into the Slave One. The ship then took off. Chewbacca surveyed the damage. Half the guests were dead or injured, priceless works of art destroyed, refreshment stand was okay, and the bands were untouched. The band now played the "Funeral March." Now the survivors began to wail. "My legs! I can't feel my legs!" Admiral Jerad yelled from a pile of wounded.



"Oww! That's because they're my legs!" someone underneath yelled.



"How did he just walk in here? I ordered patrol flights 24 hours a day!" Admiral Jerad was yelling.



"There are 37 hours a day on Coruscant. I thought you were giving us pilots an easy time." a bewildered guest said.



"Now everybody stay calm."



"Calm? Half of Rebel Command is dead. How are we supposed to win... hey wait a minute! That means I'm going to be promoted to fill the gap! Wahooo!"



"Where's the medic?"



"The medic is wounded."



"We need a medic for the medic!"



"This not good. This will not make a good mark on my record." one of the guards groaned.



"I can't feel my head!"



Chewbacca looked around further. R2D2 was still spinning, C3P0 was still trying to run away from the window. James and Leon had made their own pyres, the lightsaber had ignited their clothing. Luke Skywalker was sitting up, telling everyone to be quiet, he had a bad hangover. His own fur on the legs was singed, his back itched from the mites. Hans Solo was using the fern in the corner of the room. And... was that fried chicken he smelled? Yep, a Rhodian lay smoldering on the floor. The evening certainly wasn't as boring as he'd thought it'd be.