Rating: No language or violence. Hints at nudity, but nothing explicit.
Disclaimer: I don't own "The Emperor's New Clothes," Star Wars, or any dialogue from Star Wars, but this story is mine.
Author's Notes: Try turning made-up names around backwards or sounding them out loud.
Characters: Palpatine, Vader, Luke, and others.
Many many many many many many years ago, in a far far far far far away place, there lived an emperor. This Emperor was known to some as "Master," to others as an evil tyrant, and to still more of the never-ending list of others as "Palpatine." But setting aside such trivialities as names, there was only one thing you really needed to know about him to delve into his sick and twisted mind: he loved cloaks.
Perhaps you might say, "Uh, but Emperor Palpatine always wore just plain old black cloaks. Where's the differentiation in that?"
Well, yes, he did wear only black cloaks, even if it wasn't always that way, but that does not mean he did not care about his choice of clothing. In fact, there are many kinds of black cloaks. There are cloaks made from dyed bantha and krayt dragon hides, cloaks made from the fibers of the Corellian sunplant, cloaks made from fine Ruf'enif'evah'i fur, cloaks made from Peehs wool, and so on and so forth. In fact, half the money in Palpatine's clutches was spent on new cloaks; he just always loved the feeling of a different-textured cloak on his bare, wrinkled, decaying skin. Yes, he did enjoy the power that commanding an Empire gave him, but nothing pleased him so much as buying a new cloak.
The great city-planet that Palpatine was situated on was always lively; every day, many strangers from different planets would come to Coruscant. One day, two not-so-smart con men (well, technically, one was a human and the other was a Naughht'ta'maann) came to Coruscant, where they made people think that they were great weavers with a large variety of material at their fingers. They not only went so far to claim that they could make the best clothes imaginable, but they also boasted that their fine-looking cloaks possessed the wonderful quality of being invisible to any man who was not fit for his office or who was just plain stupid.
Now, seeing as they were both con men and dumb, you might expect that they would not have been alive for very long, but they possessed one very important advantage: the Force.
I know what you're thinking. How could two con men with their measly little Force powers hope to compete with those of Emperor Palpatine, also known as Darth Sidious, Dark Lord of the Sith? And, come to think of it, that's what I was thinking, too...Umm...Well. There was this ah...Jedi Master...on...their home planet of...Thee'vuz'r'us...and...well, he was a stinky Jedi Master, but he was great at mind blocks and deceit, characteristic of his species, the Isle'trikyu.
So, anyway, Palpatine heard about these two guys, and he thought, So...They claimest to sellest cloaks thatith canith becometh invisibilith to thou who art veryith stupidith or unfitith for thine positionith. Thisith willith help me determinith who isith unfitith for position inith my Empire. Another moment of reflection rendered, Gee. That sounds swell. I gotta get me a cloak made from this stuff real soon. So he handed a bunch of money to the guys after touching their Force presences briefly and determining (wrongly) that they meant no deceit.
So the two con men set to work on their looms with their wonderful invisible unreal cloth, and they pretended to be hard at work.
Hm. Those guys are taking a long time, old Palpatine thought to himself eventually. Perhaps I should send someone in to see how they're doing. But then he got uneasy when he remembered that people unfit for their offices weren't able to see the cloak. He reached out again with the Force to check for deceit but felt none. Why? That's already been established. Moving on...
I know! Palpatine exclaimed inwardly. I shall send my manservant, Vader. He'll check things out for me.
"What is thy bidding my master?"
Palpatine stared at his servant, who was down on one knee. "You are my trusted servant, and you understand my penchant for cloaks made of fine material."
"Yes, my master."
"I have told you about my newest cloak."
"Yes, my master."
"I wish you to go check on the progress of the cloak. I grow tired of waiting."
"Yes, my master."
"You may go."
"Yes, my master."
"Goodbye, Lord Vader."
"Yes, my master."
Vader stared at the two men, who were "working" on the "visible/invisible" cloak. He stood there breathing for a moment. Uh. There's nothing there, he mused to himself. The noise of his breathing apparatus bounced off the walls and seemed to say, Well, duh.
The Naughht'ta'maann motioned Vader closer to the cloak-in-progress, fingering the air. "This is such a fine fabric, can you not see the amazing texture of it?"
The Dark Lord stared again. He reached out to the Force and tried to discover any deceit, but if there was any to be found he could not find it. So that must mean he was unfit for his position, he concluded. Big whoop there. He already knew that. He just liked the benefits of being second-hand man to the ruler of the galaxy. But he couldn't let Palpatine know he couldn't see it. That would be unwise.
"Have you nothing to say, Lord Vader?" the human asked gently.
"It is...unique."
"I am pleased to hear that," said the nonhuman, turning to work on his loom once again.
Palpatine gave them more money, that they might continue working on the nonexistent cloak. His court soon began whispering as rumors of the cloak began to fly. They all wished to see it, the Emperor included.
But as the cloak was nearing "completion," Palpatine found he had an added problem: that of the son of the airstrider.
...Yes, everything was going as he had foreseen, except for the progress of that blasted cloak!
Vader was already preparing to go down to Endor to meet with the little brat now. He had to get that cloak soon!
He finally decided to go check on its progress himself, taking some courtiers and a few members of his Royal Guard with him.
The swindlers continued working very hard with their imaginative thread under Palpatine's watchful eye.
One of the courtiers looked nervously at that which he could not see and then tried to put on airs, "Oh, why, yes, it is a most splendid cloak indeed! Look at the magnificent black color...and the texture, oh my..."
What the Jedi is this? the Emperor thought. I don't see a blazin' thing. Jedispit! Does this mean I'm mentally incompetent? Unfit to be Emperor? Hah! Heh. Heh. Snort. Uh. I mean, why...what in space is going on? I can't be unfit to be Emperor! That would be...terrible. He looked up incredulously. All right, who wrote this? Ow! Okay. Sorry. Um, terrible. That would be terrible.
Out loud, Palpatine said, "Your cloak has my approval so long as it is finished soon," and he curled his lip in a snarl that clearly said: Or else.
The courtiers all complimented the cloak they could not see, exclaiming about at the beauty of it all.
Palpatine then appointed the pair to be his cloak weavers for an indefinite amount of time.
The con men pretended to work and sweat and work and sweat and work and swear and uh sweat and work and, yeah,...all through the night. Finally, they said, "The cloak is ready."
Palpatine would've jumped for joy 't'were it not for the fact that he had appearances to keep up. As it was, he settled for an evil little grin of satisfaction.
The Naughht'ta'maann spoke, "Do you wish assistance in trying on your cloak, or do you wish to have privacy?"
"Dare you insult me? I will not allow anyone to undress me! Now, out!"
So the two con men left, and Palpatine stripped, and, uh...Let's move on to the next scene, shall we?
Luke somberly followed his father into the lift and then into the Emperor's sinister throne room. The ominous dark throne was not facing them, but it slowly turned around to do so.
Luke gaped, his eyes bulging.
"Welcome, young Skywalker. I have been expecting you." The Emperor paused and then gave an evil little smile, "Admiring my new cloak are you?"
"Wha—! You're not wearing anything, you doddering old fool!" Luke shouted before fainting onto the floor out of horror beside his father, who had fainted the very moment he saw Palpatine's...birthday suit.
Palpatine looked down at himself. He suddenly felt the true part of a fool. "No!" he exclaimed. "That's not true! That's impossible!"
And then Palpatine died out of sheer horror, and those Imperials who came in checking on him died of horror, and those Imperials who came checking in on those Imperials died of horror, and the Rebels destroyed all of the Imperial ships, but not before Luke and Vader managed to escape from the Death Star and retire to a planet where everyone wore ten layers of clothing and never would they ever have to see the horrific hint of some despot's decaying and wrinkly old skin and...
The End.