Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars and that makes me sad. It all belongs to George Lucas.

Summary: I was watching ROTS with commentary, and George Lucas said something about the Death Star taking so long because of supply problems, so here is my take on it.

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All that Darth Vader wanted to do was hang his head in his hands and go to sleep, but of course, his Master would have none of that. Lord Sidious had asked him to read through the files, and Vader had begrudgingly agreed, but now, only half an hour into it, he was bored and angry.

Supply Problems.

Contractors showing up late.

Employees complaining about their wages.

The Galactica500 blaster models, or the Empire2000TX models?

The food is lousy.

The gravity shear is annoying.

My hard hat itches.

The list went on and on, getting more and more ridiculous, and Darth Vader sighed...well, it sounded more like an asthmatic wheeze through his mask. There were countless more items on the list, but one caught his eye.

Not enough nails.

Vader practically tore up the sheet right then and there. This time he really did put his head into his hands, but when he tried, his giant mask kept interfering with him being able to find a comfortable position for his head. He wheezed again (which was really a sigh).

How could there not be enough nails? Does a Death Star even have nails? The entire problem had been a complete nightmare since it had started. Never had Vader been involved in such a disastrous project, not even when he had been a Jedi. Not even that nest of Gundarks had been as bad as this entire Death Star ordeal. Not even Ventress had been this insane, and that was certainly saying something.

Vader decided to take a walk to clear his head. He did not know what to do. He had never been the planning, problem-solving type. He had always left up the strategy and negotiating to Obi-Wan. Anger flared up in Vader's heart at the thought of Obi-Wan, but in the back of his mind, he could not help thinking that

Stop it Vader! Obi-Wan is dead to you. Besides, thought Vader, if Obi-Wan was here and there were contractor problems he would probably just solve the problem by leaving them limbless and flaming on some Hellish planet. Yes, thought Vader, after all, that is how Obi-Wan decided to handle our problems.

Thinking about Obi-Wan only made Vader feel more angry. He decided to meditate, it had sometimes worked when he was a Jedi. He sat down on the floor, but when he tried to cross his legs, the clunky metal banged around, and he was not able to. Finally, he gave up and just sat in a chair, but that felt too much as though he were sitting for high tea, and so, our poor bad guy wandered aimlessly around for hours until he finally decided that standing while staring out into the stars would suffice.

As he meditated, his mind flashed on one of the other comments that he had read in the course of the day. My hard had itches. Vader wanted to scream, but he knew that in his new prison it may come out sounding more like a dying bantha. His hard hat itches? He doesn't have to wear this Sith-forsaken thing!

Vader was so confused. He had thought that the construction of the Death Star would help take his mind off of everything that had happened, when in turn, it was all just a big disaster! The blasted thing was more problems than it was worth. Who cared if the thing would be able to blow up entire planets? Vader had always gone for the more subtle approach of the Force-choke. Certainly not as flashy as Force lightning, but just as effective. Geez, I should have gone into marketing.

Sidious had always been the better one at the ostentatious types of death, whereas Vader thought of his own way as much more stylistic, more of an art form. After all, he had always appreciated art, just not the modern art that he saw all the time on Coruscant that had a black dot on a white canvas and sold for millions of credits...that never failed to get to him.

Vader wished that they could decorate the Death Star, but he knew that Lord Sidious would have none of that. After all, Sith Lords do not like art, right? Vader groaned. The more and more he got to know Sidious, the more he realized how boring he was, and he would never allow any show of disobedience from Vader. It was like being a Padawan all over again, except that Obi-Wan was not as uptight, nor as...scarred, as Sidious was.

The scars freaked Vader out. Every time he saw them he thought of Mace Windu, and of all of the Jedi, Mace Windu was not the one that Vader wanted to think about. Vader turned his mind back to the construction. What do I do?

I can't just Force-choke every single construction crew in the Galaxy, but why do they all have to be such idiots? Vader was getting sick of this entire Death Star thing.

A fully armed and operational machine that can destroy entire planets. It will make the rebels run for cover. That was what Sidious had told Vader. Whoo-hoo, Vader thought. Did I really just say whoo-hoo in my mind? He shuddered. Sith weren't supposed to say whoo-hoo!

Pull yourself together Anakin...Vader! Geez. Vader. Vader. Vader. Invader. Later. Traitor. Faker. AGHHHHH! Vader rubbed a gloved hand over his smooth and hard helmet. He was only confusing himself. But the word traitor stuck in his mind for the rest of the day.

Just wanting to get away from all of these people and the entire disastrous project, Vader tried to go to sleep, but it eluded him. Finally, he just got too frustrated for words. He did not even want to hear the words Death Star ever again. He wanted to get out before he bumped into Lord Sidious, unfortunately, luck was not on our favorite bad guy's side today.

As Vader walked out the door, Lord Sidious came around the corner of the hall. "Lord Vader!" Vader tried to walk quickly and pretend that he had not heard the other Sith lord. All that Vader could think every time that he looked at Sidious was Botox...he needs botox...bo..tox!

"Lord Vader!" Sidious shouted again, this time with a bit more anger. Vader could not ignore him for much longer. "Lord Vader, have you finished reading the construction reports?"

"Yes, my Lord." Vader said, trying to avoid eye contact...wait...eye contact? He was wearing a mask for Force sakes!

"And...?" Lord Sidious eagerly looked at his apprentice.

Vader gulped. "Well, my Lord, it going...well...there have been some minor difficulties." He could not lie to Sidious...he always knew.

Sidious went into a rage. He threw things, force-lightening things, and then, he tripped over his own cloak, slightly destroying the entire effect of the temper tantrum. "NO, NO, NO! (reminiscent of a no, no, no scene in ROTS)!"

Vader decided just to wait out the tantrum. Usually, Sidious could work himself up so much that he would collapse and Vader could make a run for it...or, well, he could clunk quickly along the hallway in his suit in any case.

Finally, Sidious sank to the ground. "Lord Vader...comm every contractor in the galaxy. I want that treaty signed! I mean, I want that Death Star built!"

Vader groaned. "And what of the failures my Lord?"

Sidious's wrinkles twitched. "Wipe them out. All of them."

I should have known. He needs to get some new lines. "Yes my Master."

Vader took off down the hallway. As he gazed out into the stars, at the disastrous hunk of metal hanging in the sky, he decided that he might as well just get the comm-making over with. He picked up the galactic comm book and began his work.

It was painstaking work. Vader got stuck on hold countless times, each playing the same bad music, and when someone finally picked up, they all complained that they could not understand him. Apparently, his mask was creating to much feedback over the comm. How dare they treat a Sith Lord like this?

Vader just wanted to rage and scream for what felt like the hundredth time that day. He gave up on the comming, and found a quiet room to sit and think, where Sidious would not be able to find him. But when he sat down, he heard a terrible scraping noise, like nails on a chalkboard...or perhaps just nails. He leapt up. When he finally took a look around the room, he saw thousands of nails scattered everywhere.

His backside would have been bleeding terribly if it were not for his metal underwear/suit. Well, I truly have learned something new today. Death Stars really do have nails, and I just found them. How the Force did they get in here?

Vader did not want to ponder it any longer. He was tired and sick of all of this. When he looked at his suit, the nails had scratched it all up and completely designed the scary effect of his metal butt. Vader could not take anymore of this. He laid down, ignoring the scratching of the nails, and went to sleep.

His last thought before going to sleep was, At this rate, it will take twenty years to finish this Force-forsaken project.

Oh, now our dear favorite bad guy, strap in. You have no idea how right you are.

The End.

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A/N I know that this didn't really have a plot, but I'm still working on improving my humorous Fic writing. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading it, and feedback is always appreciated!

Quick Update: I know I said that this was the end, but I ended up writing another chapter to it...hope you enjoy!