Title: When Minds Are Idle...
Author: baru-chan
Summary: What happens when a Dark Lord of the Sith sires a child? And what if the said child was raised in a tenth-rate planet and decides to join the Rebellion? If that wasn't bad enough, what if the Sith Lord's child was dared to send him a funky little poem?
Author's Notes: I wanted a break from writing angsty!Luke stories, and this is the result!
Please note that I haven't read any EU books or comic strips set between ANH and ESB so this is sort-of-AU in that respect.
I don't know if this thing is humorous or not, but I *do* know that it's rather light-hearted...
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PROLOGUE
It was seven months after Luke Skywalker first joined the Rebellion. So far, all he had done was to become a Rebel Alliance hero, be the youngest commander in the Rebel fleet, lead his very own X-wing fighter squadron and lose one of the true friends he had (destroying a space station the size of a small moon in the process). He also rescued and befriended a *really* beautiful princess, convinced a smuggler with an extra-strong sense of self-preservation to work for the Rebellion and managed to half-understand the language of the smuggler's first mate of a Wookie.
When Luke realized what had happened to him from the time when he helped his Uncle Owen buy two droids up until the present, he instantly became depressed.
He expected a bit more excitement when he blasted off Tatooine.
**********
PART ONE -- The Dare
The Rogue Squadron had a recent successful mission. They managed to defend themselves against an Imperial Star Destroyer while simultaneously protecting a medical frigate.
Not bad for a squad that was only formed last month.
Some of the squad members decided to celebrate their victory by washing their sense of triumph down with a few shots of liquor.
Mysteriously, though, those few shots morphed into a few bottles.
Luke didn't mind the sudden change, though, as he helped himself to another shot of Radfasd's best.
Wedge Antilles, Luke's closest friend in the squadron (and not to mention one of the youngest members, only a few months older than Luke), decided to play a game of Truth or Dare.
He started off by saying (though it was more like yelling): "Hey, hotshot! Truth or Dare?!"
Luke, who was not up to spilling out his deepest darkest secrets to the squadron he was supposed
to be leading, blurted out: "Dare!"
Wedge grinned devilishly. "I daaaaare yooooooouuuuuuu tooooo..." he drawled, smirking at the blond young man. He paused for dramatic effects. "Compose a silly poem and send it to Vader!"
Everybody in the room gasped. Most of them were (and still are) daredevils, but to actually SEND VADER A MESSAGE? That was unheard of!
But Luke, always the one rising to the occasion, agreed.
"Wait!" shouted Wedge before Luke exited the room. "Before you send the poem, you should first
show it to me and the rest of the squadron! And then we'll pass as tourists in some other planet
and send the poem from there!"
Luke mentally sighed. There went his chance to lie to Wedge about sending the thing. Oh, well. If there was one thing he learned in Tatooine, it was this: Nothing in life is fair.
Walking out of the room, Luke had another thought. If he learned another thing from that sand-ball, it was that Fate (or the Force, depending on one's point of view) has a twisted sense of humor.
**********
PART TWO -- The Sad Excuse of a Poem
The sandy-haired ex-farmboy of a pilot ran a hand through his hair and sighed. It was *hopeless*! Unless he turned into a bard overnight, he had no chance of writing a silly poem!
Before Luke could do anything else, a certain Wedge Antilles barged into the room and seated himself on Luke's bed. "Heya hotshot! How's the poetry-writing session going?"
Luke rolled his eyes at his friend and said: "This is no use! I don't have any poetry-writing skills!"
Wedge laughed boisterously. "And I'm not a Corellian! Luke, buddy, just think of what you want to say and try to think of words to rhyme with it!"
Easier said than done, thought Luke, though he did not respond verbally.
Wedge pushed off from his friend's bunk and peered over Luke's shoulder. He squinted and said
incredulously: "'Tra-la-la-la-lally,/See the author's insanity!'? Luke, that has *got* to be the
poorest excuse of a poem I've ever read!"
Luke rolled his eyes. "What do you want me to write? 'Tra-la-la-la-lally,/See Edikushikashikamatosineratosinokasamacamawaki Brown's insanity!'?"
Wedge was rubbing his chin. "Yes...yes, that could do," he muttered. He then clapped his hand on Luke's shoulder. "Just continue writing those lines and then show it to the squad when you're finished. See ya!"
The door closed with a *swoosh*.
Luke stretched his neck and groaned. "What did I do to deserve this?" he asked the universe at large.
A loud whomping noise was his only response.
**********
PART THREE -- Message Sent Successfully
It was a week after the Infamous Dare (as Luke's subconcious liked to call it) when Luke finally gave the final draft to the members of the Rogue Squadron.
"Well?" Luke asked impatiently.
There was silence for a few moments before -- one by one -- the members of the Rogue Squadron laughed uproariously. Finally, when everybody calmed down enough (which meant that a few of them would emit high-pitched giggles once in a while), Luke said: "So I take that as a 'yes'."
The inhabitants of the room all nodded mirthfully.
Luke heaved a sigh. "Then let's go."
The Rogue Squadron were in B'wisti, a planet in the Outer Rim where there was little Imperial presence and a relatively safe environment. They were staying at the vacation house of one of the squad member's uncle that was equipped with a long-range transmitter.
Hopefully, its range would be far enough to reach Coruscant.
Wedge took the datapad from Luke and re-read its contents one last time. Once he was satisfied, he downloaded its contents into the transmitter. Checking the message once again, Wedge pressed the SEND button.
Luke's funky little poem was now being transmitted to a Dark Lord's inbox.
He hoped that Vader was the kind of person who only checks his mail once in a while.
Though of course, that was a futile wish.
**********
PART FOUR -- The Funky Little Poem
Darth Vader, Dark Lord of the Sith, second-in-command of the Galactic Empire, destroyer of the Jedi Order and bane of every outlaw and law-abiding citizen of the galaxy gave a tired sigh as the jaws of his meditation chamber snapped shut with a hiss.
His day was not a pleasant one by anybody's standards. It started off with him finding out that his once-pristine black cape had a bright orange spot right at the center. So Vader had to go back to his quarters and change into a new cape. Then, just at the stroke of noon, he had accidentally stepped on somebody's spilled lunch. His boots were now stained with a particularly garish shade of purple. To add insult to the injury, he did not notice the stain until later on the day.
Vader made a mental note to strangle the poor soul who dared to spill his lunch.
The Sith Lord levitated the computer console towards him and checked his inbox. After sifting through the meaningless junk mail and invitations to insignificant social gatherings, he encountered a most peculiar message header.
THIS IS THE RESULT OF THE BOREDOM YOU IMPOSED ON US
Vader checked the sender of the mail. It was unnamed, coming from the planet B'wisti.
The Sith Lord shrugged. He needed something to cool his thoughts down.
The message read:
Dear Darth Vader,
Hello! I was really, REALLY bored one day when one of my friends dared me to write a funky poem about you. So, naturally, I agreed. The following is the result of that challenge:
Tra-la-la-la-lally!
See Edikushikashikamatosineratosinokasamacamawaki Brown's insanity!
Tra-la-la-la-lally!
Edikushikashikamatosineratosinokasamacamawaki Brown is pushing a trolley!
When minds are idle,
They tend to ramble!
So come, friend, come with me!
Come and share my insanity!
Dewbacks are disgusting things,
And so are over-cooked mynock wings!
That jawa needs to take a bath
Before it faces an obssessive-compulsive's wrath!
Vader has asthma
Because he ate plasma!
He wears a creepy mask
And doesn't drink from a flask!
When minds are idle,
They tend to ramble!
So come, friend, come with me!
Come and share my insanity!
I hope you enjoyed my poem!
From: Edikushikashikamatosineratosinokasamacamawaki Brown
Vader sat back and regarded the poem thoughtfully. It was rather well-written.
Not.
The Sith Lord deleted it and the poem's pathetic existence in Darth Vader's mailbox ended.
Author: baru-chan
Summary: What happens when a Dark Lord of the Sith sires a child? And what if the said child was raised in a tenth-rate planet and decides to join the Rebellion? If that wasn't bad enough, what if the Sith Lord's child was dared to send him a funky little poem?
Author's Notes: I wanted a break from writing angsty!Luke stories, and this is the result!
Please note that I haven't read any EU books or comic strips set between ANH and ESB so this is sort-of-AU in that respect.
I don't know if this thing is humorous or not, but I *do* know that it's rather light-hearted...
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
PROLOGUE
It was seven months after Luke Skywalker first joined the Rebellion. So far, all he had done was to become a Rebel Alliance hero, be the youngest commander in the Rebel fleet, lead his very own X-wing fighter squadron and lose one of the true friends he had (destroying a space station the size of a small moon in the process). He also rescued and befriended a *really* beautiful princess, convinced a smuggler with an extra-strong sense of self-preservation to work for the Rebellion and managed to half-understand the language of the smuggler's first mate of a Wookie.
When Luke realized what had happened to him from the time when he helped his Uncle Owen buy two droids up until the present, he instantly became depressed.
He expected a bit more excitement when he blasted off Tatooine.
**********
PART ONE -- The Dare
The Rogue Squadron had a recent successful mission. They managed to defend themselves against an Imperial Star Destroyer while simultaneously protecting a medical frigate.
Not bad for a squad that was only formed last month.
Some of the squad members decided to celebrate their victory by washing their sense of triumph down with a few shots of liquor.
Mysteriously, though, those few shots morphed into a few bottles.
Luke didn't mind the sudden change, though, as he helped himself to another shot of Radfasd's best.
Wedge Antilles, Luke's closest friend in the squadron (and not to mention one of the youngest members, only a few months older than Luke), decided to play a game of Truth or Dare.
He started off by saying (though it was more like yelling): "Hey, hotshot! Truth or Dare?!"
Luke, who was not up to spilling out his deepest darkest secrets to the squadron he was supposed
to be leading, blurted out: "Dare!"
Wedge grinned devilishly. "I daaaaare yooooooouuuuuuu tooooo..." he drawled, smirking at the blond young man. He paused for dramatic effects. "Compose a silly poem and send it to Vader!"
Everybody in the room gasped. Most of them were (and still are) daredevils, but to actually SEND VADER A MESSAGE? That was unheard of!
But Luke, always the one rising to the occasion, agreed.
"Wait!" shouted Wedge before Luke exited the room. "Before you send the poem, you should first
show it to me and the rest of the squadron! And then we'll pass as tourists in some other planet
and send the poem from there!"
Luke mentally sighed. There went his chance to lie to Wedge about sending the thing. Oh, well. If there was one thing he learned in Tatooine, it was this: Nothing in life is fair.
Walking out of the room, Luke had another thought. If he learned another thing from that sand-ball, it was that Fate (or the Force, depending on one's point of view) has a twisted sense of humor.
**********
PART TWO -- The Sad Excuse of a Poem
The sandy-haired ex-farmboy of a pilot ran a hand through his hair and sighed. It was *hopeless*! Unless he turned into a bard overnight, he had no chance of writing a silly poem!
Before Luke could do anything else, a certain Wedge Antilles barged into the room and seated himself on Luke's bed. "Heya hotshot! How's the poetry-writing session going?"
Luke rolled his eyes at his friend and said: "This is no use! I don't have any poetry-writing skills!"
Wedge laughed boisterously. "And I'm not a Corellian! Luke, buddy, just think of what you want to say and try to think of words to rhyme with it!"
Easier said than done, thought Luke, though he did not respond verbally.
Wedge pushed off from his friend's bunk and peered over Luke's shoulder. He squinted and said
incredulously: "'Tra-la-la-la-lally,/See the author's insanity!'? Luke, that has *got* to be the
poorest excuse of a poem I've ever read!"
Luke rolled his eyes. "What do you want me to write? 'Tra-la-la-la-lally,/See Edikushikashikamatosineratosinokasamacamawaki Brown's insanity!'?"
Wedge was rubbing his chin. "Yes...yes, that could do," he muttered. He then clapped his hand on Luke's shoulder. "Just continue writing those lines and then show it to the squad when you're finished. See ya!"
The door closed with a *swoosh*.
Luke stretched his neck and groaned. "What did I do to deserve this?" he asked the universe at large.
A loud whomping noise was his only response.
**********
PART THREE -- Message Sent Successfully
It was a week after the Infamous Dare (as Luke's subconcious liked to call it) when Luke finally gave the final draft to the members of the Rogue Squadron.
"Well?" Luke asked impatiently.
There was silence for a few moments before -- one by one -- the members of the Rogue Squadron laughed uproariously. Finally, when everybody calmed down enough (which meant that a few of them would emit high-pitched giggles once in a while), Luke said: "So I take that as a 'yes'."
The inhabitants of the room all nodded mirthfully.
Luke heaved a sigh. "Then let's go."
The Rogue Squadron were in B'wisti, a planet in the Outer Rim where there was little Imperial presence and a relatively safe environment. They were staying at the vacation house of one of the squad member's uncle that was equipped with a long-range transmitter.
Hopefully, its range would be far enough to reach Coruscant.
Wedge took the datapad from Luke and re-read its contents one last time. Once he was satisfied, he downloaded its contents into the transmitter. Checking the message once again, Wedge pressed the SEND button.
Luke's funky little poem was now being transmitted to a Dark Lord's inbox.
He hoped that Vader was the kind of person who only checks his mail once in a while.
Though of course, that was a futile wish.
**********
PART FOUR -- The Funky Little Poem
Darth Vader, Dark Lord of the Sith, second-in-command of the Galactic Empire, destroyer of the Jedi Order and bane of every outlaw and law-abiding citizen of the galaxy gave a tired sigh as the jaws of his meditation chamber snapped shut with a hiss.
His day was not a pleasant one by anybody's standards. It started off with him finding out that his once-pristine black cape had a bright orange spot right at the center. So Vader had to go back to his quarters and change into a new cape. Then, just at the stroke of noon, he had accidentally stepped on somebody's spilled lunch. His boots were now stained with a particularly garish shade of purple. To add insult to the injury, he did not notice the stain until later on the day.
Vader made a mental note to strangle the poor soul who dared to spill his lunch.
The Sith Lord levitated the computer console towards him and checked his inbox. After sifting through the meaningless junk mail and invitations to insignificant social gatherings, he encountered a most peculiar message header.
THIS IS THE RESULT OF THE BOREDOM YOU IMPOSED ON US
Vader checked the sender of the mail. It was unnamed, coming from the planet B'wisti.
The Sith Lord shrugged. He needed something to cool his thoughts down.
The message read:
Dear Darth Vader,
Hello! I was really, REALLY bored one day when one of my friends dared me to write a funky poem about you. So, naturally, I agreed. The following is the result of that challenge:
Tra-la-la-la-lally!
See Edikushikashikamatosineratosinokasamacamawaki Brown's insanity!
Tra-la-la-la-lally!
Edikushikashikamatosineratosinokasamacamawaki Brown is pushing a trolley!
When minds are idle,
They tend to ramble!
So come, friend, come with me!
Come and share my insanity!
Dewbacks are disgusting things,
And so are over-cooked mynock wings!
That jawa needs to take a bath
Before it faces an obssessive-compulsive's wrath!
Vader has asthma
Because he ate plasma!
He wears a creepy mask
And doesn't drink from a flask!
When minds are idle,
They tend to ramble!
So come, friend, come with me!
Come and share my insanity!
I hope you enjoyed my poem!
From: Edikushikashikamatosineratosinokasamacamawaki Brown
Vader sat back and regarded the poem thoughtfully. It was rather well-written.
Not.
The Sith Lord deleted it and the poem's pathetic existence in Darth Vader's mailbox ended.