A/N: So, we now have Darth Vader with the therapist. Are you ready to hear
his story? I mean really, are you ready? Okay, I'm assuming you said yes.
So READ!!!!
P.S. - Kids, don't follow Darth Vader's example. Smoking is bad for you.
Disclaimer: Once again, I don't own Star Wars and I'm not really sure I would want to. Have you ever imagined how stressed out George Lucas must be all the time, with all this stuff to worry about? And as far as plot lines, you're probably going to wonder why Darth Vader (better show him respect by using his full name) claims that he knew about his children when they were first born, but face it, he's a bit loopy....that's why he's at therapy.
PART 2
Darth Vader suddenly took out a pack of Marlboros from the pocket of his cape. "You don't mind, do you?" he asked. I shook my head, and watched as he lit the cigarette, wondering how he would smoke it if he didn't have a mouth.
"I know it's a nasty habit, but a bounty hunter on Geonosis got me hooked years ago. I never had the patience to quit," he informed me.
I watched as he placed the cigarette in one of the slits of the vent which served as his mouth. He didn't take a puff of it, he just continued breathing in the same, measured way he had before. I began to wonder if he had any control over his breathing. I decided it was better not to ask.
"So," I said, ready to start, "I suppose the best thing for me to do is just let you talk."
"I like the way you think," he responded, and I imagined that he'd be smiling if he had any control over his facial expressions.
"Well then go at it," I said, taking out a pad of paper for my notes.
He leaned back, and put his free hand up to his chin, as if he was engaging in some deep reflection. He shook his head slowly as he gazed out the window at the cloudy sky. "I've had quite a life," he said to himself.
I thought better than to reply.
"I used to be a nice guy. I didn't have a dad. My mom said she just kind of got pregnant with me by herself. Huh, likely story. But I don't ask questions."
I nodded, although I didn't quite understand.
"I was a slave for a real sleazebag mechanic, until this Jedi named Qui-gon started saying I was the chosen one who would bring balance back to the force and all that. Blah, blah, blah, I didn't really care. All I knew was that he brought a really hot chick with him. I was just a kid then, though. I didn't stand a chance.
"Anyway, Qui-gon freed me and said he was going to train me to be a Jedi. I had to leave my mom, but I figured, what the heck. The only problem was that Qui-gon died before he could even get started. Ha, what a loser. Well, his kid apprentice Obi-wan started training me and we got along just fine for a while. But I think he was always jealous of me because I was so much better-looking than him. Yeah, I sure stole a couple of his girlfriends. But that's getting off topic.
"A few years later I met up with that same hot chick I knew all those years before. She said I was still a little kid. I thought she was blind or something, because I knew I was hot. But she eventually came to her senses, and we hooked up. Then I took her to the place I grew up, because I wanted to check up on my mother. Yeah, I was a real devoted son. But I found out that these freaky sand people had kidnapped her and done bad things to her, and I didn't ask what. I killed them all regardless, and I liked it. I thought it was fun. That's when I realized how truly demented I was."
I saw him beat his fist on the daybed. I was feeling rather frightened.
"My girlfriend wasn't too bright. She encouraged my violence. She would hold me in her arms and tell me my fits of rage were just everyday teenager stuff. I don't think she realized my true sadistic nature when she soon married me."
His hand was gently stroking the felt pillow at his side. He ran his fingers slowly up and down the fabric, but I was rather surprised to see that they left sweat marks. How can a mechanical hand leave sweat marks? Again, I thought it was better not to ask. He obviously noticed the sweat marks as well, because he made an effort to hide them from me by covering them with his cape. I tried to hide my quiet snickering.
"Well, the years went by and I got meaner and meaner," he continued, "and soon my wife gave birth to my twin children. We named them Luke and Leia. I don't know where those names came from. My wife must have chosen them, because I personally wanted to name the twins Blood and Guts. I thought those names had a nice ring to them. But my wife felt differently. In fact, we began to feel differently about a lot of things. She thought I was a bad influence on the children. So she sent them away.
"Luke went to live with my bratty stepbrother Owen and his wife. I thought about making a move on her, but I decided not to, because she was creepy. I'm creepy too, but that's beside the point.
"Leia was taken into the custody of a certain politician from Alderaan, whom I had always disliked. He was too big for his britches. That's why I blew his planet up later on. It's great to be a sadist.
"Anyway, something really disturbing happened when Luke and Leia grew up. Luke met his sister and fell in love with her. I thought that was gross, even if I am a sadist."
This story was becoming rather strange, but entertaining just the same. Yet I wondered why Darth Vader discouraged his son's love for his sister, but had still contemplated making a move on his sister-in-law. That seemed almost as disturbing. But just like usual, I decided not to ask.
"Well, I hired this creep Han Solo to go fall in love with my daughter so that my son wouldn't marry her. He did a good job. A bit too good I'm afraid. My fatherly nature kicked in. I didn't want anyone taking my daughter away from me. So I froze Han in carbonite, thinking that would hold him. But noooo. Of course, my daughter makes it her duty to go and free him. I couldn't stand their reunion. Good grief, he was all like, 'who are you?', and she's like, 'someone who loves you.' I wanted to throw up."
With all of Darth Vader's ranting, I went into a daze, wondering what sort of a guy Han Solo must have been. He was probably a fearless hero, with a heart that could stand a little romance. Then I started to dream about Luke, until I came to my senses. Any guy who digs his sister has to be pretty desperate. I soon returned to my normal state of attention, and began listening again to my patient.
A/N: Hmm, what will happen next? How will the therapist handle Darth Vader's rather unpropitious problems? And most importantly, how can a mechanical hand leave sweatmarks? The answers are coming. Please review, and I'll post the third and final chapter soon!
P.S. - Kids, don't follow Darth Vader's example. Smoking is bad for you.
Disclaimer: Once again, I don't own Star Wars and I'm not really sure I would want to. Have you ever imagined how stressed out George Lucas must be all the time, with all this stuff to worry about? And as far as plot lines, you're probably going to wonder why Darth Vader (better show him respect by using his full name) claims that he knew about his children when they were first born, but face it, he's a bit loopy....that's why he's at therapy.
PART 2
Darth Vader suddenly took out a pack of Marlboros from the pocket of his cape. "You don't mind, do you?" he asked. I shook my head, and watched as he lit the cigarette, wondering how he would smoke it if he didn't have a mouth.
"I know it's a nasty habit, but a bounty hunter on Geonosis got me hooked years ago. I never had the patience to quit," he informed me.
I watched as he placed the cigarette in one of the slits of the vent which served as his mouth. He didn't take a puff of it, he just continued breathing in the same, measured way he had before. I began to wonder if he had any control over his breathing. I decided it was better not to ask.
"So," I said, ready to start, "I suppose the best thing for me to do is just let you talk."
"I like the way you think," he responded, and I imagined that he'd be smiling if he had any control over his facial expressions.
"Well then go at it," I said, taking out a pad of paper for my notes.
He leaned back, and put his free hand up to his chin, as if he was engaging in some deep reflection. He shook his head slowly as he gazed out the window at the cloudy sky. "I've had quite a life," he said to himself.
I thought better than to reply.
"I used to be a nice guy. I didn't have a dad. My mom said she just kind of got pregnant with me by herself. Huh, likely story. But I don't ask questions."
I nodded, although I didn't quite understand.
"I was a slave for a real sleazebag mechanic, until this Jedi named Qui-gon started saying I was the chosen one who would bring balance back to the force and all that. Blah, blah, blah, I didn't really care. All I knew was that he brought a really hot chick with him. I was just a kid then, though. I didn't stand a chance.
"Anyway, Qui-gon freed me and said he was going to train me to be a Jedi. I had to leave my mom, but I figured, what the heck. The only problem was that Qui-gon died before he could even get started. Ha, what a loser. Well, his kid apprentice Obi-wan started training me and we got along just fine for a while. But I think he was always jealous of me because I was so much better-looking than him. Yeah, I sure stole a couple of his girlfriends. But that's getting off topic.
"A few years later I met up with that same hot chick I knew all those years before. She said I was still a little kid. I thought she was blind or something, because I knew I was hot. But she eventually came to her senses, and we hooked up. Then I took her to the place I grew up, because I wanted to check up on my mother. Yeah, I was a real devoted son. But I found out that these freaky sand people had kidnapped her and done bad things to her, and I didn't ask what. I killed them all regardless, and I liked it. I thought it was fun. That's when I realized how truly demented I was."
I saw him beat his fist on the daybed. I was feeling rather frightened.
"My girlfriend wasn't too bright. She encouraged my violence. She would hold me in her arms and tell me my fits of rage were just everyday teenager stuff. I don't think she realized my true sadistic nature when she soon married me."
His hand was gently stroking the felt pillow at his side. He ran his fingers slowly up and down the fabric, but I was rather surprised to see that they left sweat marks. How can a mechanical hand leave sweat marks? Again, I thought it was better not to ask. He obviously noticed the sweat marks as well, because he made an effort to hide them from me by covering them with his cape. I tried to hide my quiet snickering.
"Well, the years went by and I got meaner and meaner," he continued, "and soon my wife gave birth to my twin children. We named them Luke and Leia. I don't know where those names came from. My wife must have chosen them, because I personally wanted to name the twins Blood and Guts. I thought those names had a nice ring to them. But my wife felt differently. In fact, we began to feel differently about a lot of things. She thought I was a bad influence on the children. So she sent them away.
"Luke went to live with my bratty stepbrother Owen and his wife. I thought about making a move on her, but I decided not to, because she was creepy. I'm creepy too, but that's beside the point.
"Leia was taken into the custody of a certain politician from Alderaan, whom I had always disliked. He was too big for his britches. That's why I blew his planet up later on. It's great to be a sadist.
"Anyway, something really disturbing happened when Luke and Leia grew up. Luke met his sister and fell in love with her. I thought that was gross, even if I am a sadist."
This story was becoming rather strange, but entertaining just the same. Yet I wondered why Darth Vader discouraged his son's love for his sister, but had still contemplated making a move on his sister-in-law. That seemed almost as disturbing. But just like usual, I decided not to ask.
"Well, I hired this creep Han Solo to go fall in love with my daughter so that my son wouldn't marry her. He did a good job. A bit too good I'm afraid. My fatherly nature kicked in. I didn't want anyone taking my daughter away from me. So I froze Han in carbonite, thinking that would hold him. But noooo. Of course, my daughter makes it her duty to go and free him. I couldn't stand their reunion. Good grief, he was all like, 'who are you?', and she's like, 'someone who loves you.' I wanted to throw up."
With all of Darth Vader's ranting, I went into a daze, wondering what sort of a guy Han Solo must have been. He was probably a fearless hero, with a heart that could stand a little romance. Then I started to dream about Luke, until I came to my senses. Any guy who digs his sister has to be pretty desperate. I soon returned to my normal state of attention, and began listening again to my patient.
A/N: Hmm, what will happen next? How will the therapist handle Darth Vader's rather unpropitious problems? And most importantly, how can a mechanical hand leave sweatmarks? The answers are coming. Please review, and I'll post the third and final chapter soon!
