Scary Narrator Dude: Last time on Star Wars vs Us, our heroes-
SSJ V: Um. . . define the word 'heroes'.
SND: Well, um, the dimwits who can't keep their mouths shut and misplace vital information were in deep fodder. And no one here owns Star Wars, so you can sue yourselves-
Boba: And give us the money.
SSJ V: 0.o. . .
**************************************************************************
GT practiced for the last time her 'Please let me go save my friends ass, I promise not to get almost killed again' speech. She walked in the door behind Fett, ho was repairing his armor, damaged from a recent hunt. Guess what malfunctioned?
"You really need new jet packs." Wow, stupid, that's EXACTLY what you say when you want to convince someone to let you carry out an inconceivably idiotic plan.
*grunt*
Ah, Fett code. I should build a translator for him. I'd make millions on people who want to know what he's actually saying! Or. . . not. Ya.
"IneedtoborrowoneoftheescapeshipsandtheextrasetofarmorsoIcangosavemyfriendwh olosttheEmperorStrikesBackandReturnOfTheJedisothatoldwrinklyandsmellydoesn't findthemandbarbeQhersorrybehind. (translation: I need to borrow one of the escape ships and the extra set of armor so I can save my friend who lost the Emperor Strikes Back and Return Of The Jedi so that old wrinkly and smelly doesn't find them and Barbe Q her sorry behind.) Please?" Talking that fast was always a good strategy. That way, people might not actually understand you, but smile and nod, so you could really say that you had their permission.
*grunt*
"Thank you!"
As she walked out of the room, he took out the ear plugs he'd put in. Just in case stupidity really was contagious. Wait, was that the sound of one of the escape ships taking off? Uh-oh. . .
**************************************************************************
"Calm, calm, stop hyperventilating now. Stop. Stop. Ok, not working. WHERE IS THAT STUPID-"
"Here."
"GAH! Holly mother of- Don't do that!" Chelsey glared at her smirking friend.
"Sooo, skipping the formalities, or, since we're friends, would that be casualities?"
Chelsey raised an eyebrow.
"Or not then- where was the last place that you put the tapes?" GT inquired.
"My super secret room."
"A.K.A?"
"The box under my bed."
". . . Alrighty. Does anyone else know about this box?"
"None except for myself. And probably the cleaning lady."
". . ." GT stared at the young Sith.
". . .Shall I whack myself and get it over with?"
"Yes."
**************************************************************************
*Rebel Base*
The entire Rouge squadron, Luke, and a few other random people who are unimportant and will not be mentioned, and will probably be blown up later on in the story, gathered around Leia as she did her customary weird pep talk thing.
"You don't have shields. Your ships are pieces of junk. You are the best pilots we have, which is pretty darn sad. But hey, fifty to one are some pretty good odds. Right? All I can say is, good luck!"
As the men turned away with looks ranging from shocked to 'All of the blood has been sucked out of my face, and I'm about to fall into a crying heap on this very cheap floor', Leia walked out of the hanger, wondering if she truthfully should have said 'rather you than me'. Naw, good luck sounds more Princess-y. And, it was her JOB to make Han's head explode.
"He, he, he."
**************************************************************************
What a nice day, thought the slightly over weight cleaner woman as she walked down the hall. Nothing could possibly go wro- *THUNK*
A girl suddenly ran up behind her and tackled her to the ground.
"Hey, you said you would help me!" GT complained, as she head locked the middle aged woman and waited for Chelsey to walk around front with the 'blinding light of doom'. Actually, it was just a desk lamp on an extension cord, but you get it.
"I'm a Sith. I don't do jumping people from behind." Chelsey sneered.
"Whatever. Just get on with it."
*Click*
"WHAT DID YOU DO WITH MY MOVIES, YOU. . . um. . . person."
"Wow, that really stunk."
"Meh."
"I. . . I. . . I dumped them in the waste bin. Young minds should not watch such things, it is not good for the head." The lady answered.
"*sigh* Here we go." Chelsey lifted the top of the garbage chute and dropped in, quickly followed by GT.
*Two hours later*
"Have we found them yet?"
"No."
"Now?"
"No."
Chelsey sighed and sat down on something. A squishy something. A something that MOVED.
"GT?"
"Ya?"
"Did we forget about the giant snake sewer monster?"
"Uh-Oh. Maybe it's asleep."
"Oh, I thing it's quite awake actually."
GT looked down at her feet, which had, without her knowing, been entwined in a scaly body.
"May I repeat, uh-oh."
"Don't - move." Chelsey instructed, as she slowly got up and ignited her lightsaber. Quietly, she walked over to the snake, before, *SLICE!*
"Hey, it ATE them!" Chelsey exclaimed, picking up her two, now thoroughly digested and nearly unrecognizable tapes.
"That's great Chels, but lets get out of here. See, it's not QUITE dead!!"
As she spoke, the snake began to wreathe and hiss, knocking a large chunk of trash out near the bottom of a pile. Can you say avalanche? (And not the NHL variety!)
"AHHHH!!"
Chelsey grabbed GT's arm and began randomly pressing buttons, until she finally came to one that read 'grappling hook'.
"That'll work." GT and Chelsey said, in monotone unison, firing the hook and shooting up the chute. (A/N He, he, he, sorry!)
"Dude, I need a shower."
**************************************************************************
Fett adjusted his helmet, and prepared to go through routine armor checks. Well, he was going to, but this is Star Wars, so naturally, something's gotta happen. Probably something BAD. If you assumed as much, you win the 'I Have A Brain' certificate. ^_^ Enjoy!
A light flashed on the dash bored.
"Attention, Boba Fett," Announced the Slave I, "fifty small vessels approaching, classified as A, B and Y wings. Call coming through."
**************************************************************************
DUN -DUN- DUN! The end of this week (or possibly month. . . or two. . . um how about this) The end of this questionably large time slot's segment! See ya next time!
Lots O' Laughs,
B& SSJ V
SSJ V: Um. . . define the word 'heroes'.
SND: Well, um, the dimwits who can't keep their mouths shut and misplace vital information were in deep fodder. And no one here owns Star Wars, so you can sue yourselves-
Boba: And give us the money.
SSJ V: 0.o. . .
**************************************************************************
GT practiced for the last time her 'Please let me go save my friends ass, I promise not to get almost killed again' speech. She walked in the door behind Fett, ho was repairing his armor, damaged from a recent hunt. Guess what malfunctioned?
"You really need new jet packs." Wow, stupid, that's EXACTLY what you say when you want to convince someone to let you carry out an inconceivably idiotic plan.
*grunt*
Ah, Fett code. I should build a translator for him. I'd make millions on people who want to know what he's actually saying! Or. . . not. Ya.
"IneedtoborrowoneoftheescapeshipsandtheextrasetofarmorsoIcangosavemyfriendwh olosttheEmperorStrikesBackandReturnOfTheJedisothatoldwrinklyandsmellydoesn't findthemandbarbeQhersorrybehind. (translation: I need to borrow one of the escape ships and the extra set of armor so I can save my friend who lost the Emperor Strikes Back and Return Of The Jedi so that old wrinkly and smelly doesn't find them and Barbe Q her sorry behind.) Please?" Talking that fast was always a good strategy. That way, people might not actually understand you, but smile and nod, so you could really say that you had their permission.
*grunt*
"Thank you!"
As she walked out of the room, he took out the ear plugs he'd put in. Just in case stupidity really was contagious. Wait, was that the sound of one of the escape ships taking off? Uh-oh. . .
**************************************************************************
"Calm, calm, stop hyperventilating now. Stop. Stop. Ok, not working. WHERE IS THAT STUPID-"
"Here."
"GAH! Holly mother of- Don't do that!" Chelsey glared at her smirking friend.
"Sooo, skipping the formalities, or, since we're friends, would that be casualities?"
Chelsey raised an eyebrow.
"Or not then- where was the last place that you put the tapes?" GT inquired.
"My super secret room."
"A.K.A?"
"The box under my bed."
". . . Alrighty. Does anyone else know about this box?"
"None except for myself. And probably the cleaning lady."
". . ." GT stared at the young Sith.
". . .Shall I whack myself and get it over with?"
"Yes."
**************************************************************************
*Rebel Base*
The entire Rouge squadron, Luke, and a few other random people who are unimportant and will not be mentioned, and will probably be blown up later on in the story, gathered around Leia as she did her customary weird pep talk thing.
"You don't have shields. Your ships are pieces of junk. You are the best pilots we have, which is pretty darn sad. But hey, fifty to one are some pretty good odds. Right? All I can say is, good luck!"
As the men turned away with looks ranging from shocked to 'All of the blood has been sucked out of my face, and I'm about to fall into a crying heap on this very cheap floor', Leia walked out of the hanger, wondering if she truthfully should have said 'rather you than me'. Naw, good luck sounds more Princess-y. And, it was her JOB to make Han's head explode.
"He, he, he."
**************************************************************************
What a nice day, thought the slightly over weight cleaner woman as she walked down the hall. Nothing could possibly go wro- *THUNK*
A girl suddenly ran up behind her and tackled her to the ground.
"Hey, you said you would help me!" GT complained, as she head locked the middle aged woman and waited for Chelsey to walk around front with the 'blinding light of doom'. Actually, it was just a desk lamp on an extension cord, but you get it.
"I'm a Sith. I don't do jumping people from behind." Chelsey sneered.
"Whatever. Just get on with it."
*Click*
"WHAT DID YOU DO WITH MY MOVIES, YOU. . . um. . . person."
"Wow, that really stunk."
"Meh."
"I. . . I. . . I dumped them in the waste bin. Young minds should not watch such things, it is not good for the head." The lady answered.
"*sigh* Here we go." Chelsey lifted the top of the garbage chute and dropped in, quickly followed by GT.
*Two hours later*
"Have we found them yet?"
"No."
"Now?"
"No."
Chelsey sighed and sat down on something. A squishy something. A something that MOVED.
"GT?"
"Ya?"
"Did we forget about the giant snake sewer monster?"
"Uh-Oh. Maybe it's asleep."
"Oh, I thing it's quite awake actually."
GT looked down at her feet, which had, without her knowing, been entwined in a scaly body.
"May I repeat, uh-oh."
"Don't - move." Chelsey instructed, as she slowly got up and ignited her lightsaber. Quietly, she walked over to the snake, before, *SLICE!*
"Hey, it ATE them!" Chelsey exclaimed, picking up her two, now thoroughly digested and nearly unrecognizable tapes.
"That's great Chels, but lets get out of here. See, it's not QUITE dead!!"
As she spoke, the snake began to wreathe and hiss, knocking a large chunk of trash out near the bottom of a pile. Can you say avalanche? (And not the NHL variety!)
"AHHHH!!"
Chelsey grabbed GT's arm and began randomly pressing buttons, until she finally came to one that read 'grappling hook'.
"That'll work." GT and Chelsey said, in monotone unison, firing the hook and shooting up the chute. (A/N He, he, he, sorry!)
"Dude, I need a shower."
**************************************************************************
Fett adjusted his helmet, and prepared to go through routine armor checks. Well, he was going to, but this is Star Wars, so naturally, something's gotta happen. Probably something BAD. If you assumed as much, you win the 'I Have A Brain' certificate. ^_^ Enjoy!
A light flashed on the dash bored.
"Attention, Boba Fett," Announced the Slave I, "fifty small vessels approaching, classified as A, B and Y wings. Call coming through."
**************************************************************************
DUN -DUN- DUN! The end of this week (or possibly month. . . or two. . . um how about this) The end of this questionably large time slot's segment! See ya next time!
Lots O' Laughs,
B& SSJ V