arwensolowhowearskhaki: Yoo hoo! Hello! Dorkface, where are you?
mrsmaul: I'm here.
imatrekkie: Damn. And I thought you'd left us already.
mrsmaul: I am not so easily driven away.
arwensolowhowearskhaki: …
imatrekkie:…
anakin'sastooge: …
cAnAdIaNlLaMaFaRmEr: Llamas get loose!
mrsmaul: What is this "llamas" that you speak of?
imatrekkie: Wow. I think while you were gone you went out and smoked some pot.
mrsmaul: No. I do not "smoke" anything.
anakin'sastooge: You know, for some odd reason I'm picturing you with a really deep voice right now.
mrsmaul: Perhaps YOU are the one who has "smoked some pot."
cAnAdIaNlLaMaFaRmEr: Hippos say loop-loop!
arwensolowhowearskhaki: No… hippos say… well… I don't know what they say, actually… probably something along the lines of "bwaaaarrrrr!"
imatrekkie: I would go with some sort of roaring sound.
maulslover: Y THE HELL R U TALKIN BOUT HIPPOS! WTF!
sithassassin: Tru dat.
mrsmaul: Perhaps you discuss hippos' language because you do not wish to confess the heart of the matter.
maulslover: WTF?
imatrekkie: What matter? How Maul is hot? Because he's not. At all.
maulslover: WTF OF CURSE HE IS!
mrsmaul: You are all agnari.
arwensolowhowearskhaki: Huh?
mrsmaul: You needn't dwell on it.
- - - - - - - - -
Maul clicked away at the computer keys, watching the responses to his thread of conversation slide upwards across the screen. Of course, these pitiful humanoids did not understand the word agnari (a very strong Zabrakian swear word) but it was worthwhile to imagine the confused expressions on their faces.
Maul continued to type.
arwensolowhowearskhaki: Ok u SERIOUSLY need help.
mrsmaul: You seek to lay the blame for your problems on me.
arwensolowhowearskhaki: Huh…?
mrsmaul: Do not deny it.
arwensolowhowearskhaki: Well, I wasn't, exactly…
mrsmaul: You ridicule me as you ridicule your inner self. Confess it. You have some deep inner turmoil that drives you to despair daily.
arwensolowhowearskhaki: I DO NOT!
mrsmaul: Every word you say makes it clearer.
:long pause:
arwensolowhowearskhaki: ALL RIGHT I CONFESS!
mrsmaul: Yes?
arwensolowhowearskhaki: I'M PREGNANT! WITH TRIPLETS! AND THEY'RE HAN'S!
imatrekkie: WHAT?????
mrsmaul: And YOU, foolish humanoid, you too will share your deep inner secret!
imatrekkie: I most certainly will not, thank you very much.
mrsmaul: I will wait.
:long pause:
imatrekkie: Dear God… you… you know!
mrsmaul: Yes.
imatrekkie: And you… you believe me?
mrsmaul: Of course not. But I will permit your feeble mind to pretend that I do.
sithassassin: Ok, wtf is going on here?
imatrekkie: I SEE STUPID PEOPLE!
arwensolowhowearskhaki: IT WAS JUST AN ORDINARY ROLE-PLAYING GAME! WHO THE HELL WEARS A CONDOM WHEN THEY'RE ROLE-PLAYING, HUH?
imatrekkie: Everywhere I go… they haunt me… I see them stalking me… staring those horrible blank stares… accusing me of using big words when I say things like "pineapple"…
arwensolowhowearskhaki: And it just HAD to be triplets, didn't it? It couldn't be one baby, oh no, certainly not TWO, it had to be THREE STUPID BABIES…
imatrekkie: And they use ONE SYLLABLE WORDS AND CALL THEMSELVES SMART! Words like "juice" and "silly"!
mrsmaul: That's two syllables.
imatrekkie: SEE! THE STUPID PEOPLE ARE DESTROYING MY BRILLIANT MIND!
arwensolowhowearskhaki: And now my Aragorn poster won't even talk to me!
imatrekkie: I just want to machine gun them all down! Right now! Watch their blood run down the stairs of the high school… see them perish in anguish and fear of my intelligence!
arwensolowhowearskhaki: And I'm so fat and Han's just sitting on my desktop smiling his hot smuggler smile with those STUPID STRIPEY PANTS…
imatrekkie: VENGEANCE WILL BE MINE!
arwensolowhowearskhaki: And I just don't know what to do with my life!
imatrekkie: BWA HA HA HA HA HA!
arwensolowhowearskhaki: Maybe become a stripper…
- - - - - - - - -
Maul watched with a maniacally evil grin as the words scrolled across the page, faster and faster. His mind games with these weak humanoids were working. He would drive them to insanity. And soon… so soon… he would destruct them all completely, after laying their minds bare…
- - - - - - - - -
anakin'sastooge: This is really creepy…
mrsmaul: You fear it only because you do not understand it.
anakin'sastooge: Yeah. Right.
mrsmaul: Perhaps you also wish to confess your deep secrets to this group.
anakin'sastooge: It looks more like everybody's going insane.
mrsmaul: Same thing.
anakin'sastooge: …
mrsmaul: Do not tax your small cerebellum thinking too hard about it.
anakin'sastooge: I RESENT THAT!
mrsmaul: And what ELSE do you resent?
:long pause:
anakin'sastooge: Cheesecake.
cAnAdIaNlLaMaFaRmEr: You resent CHEESECAKE?
anakin'sastooge: And cream puffs.
anakin'sastooge: And my rubber ducky.
cAnAdIaNlLaMaFaRmEr: Why do you resent your rubber ducky? What did it ever do to you??
anakin'sastooge: Well…
arwensolowhowearskhaki: Or maybe I should join the circus. I think I would be a good trapeze artist.
anakin'sastooge: One time…
imatrekkie: I just want to take my hands and wring their worthless little necks!
anakin'sastooge: … at band camp…
arwensolowhowearskhaki: Of course I wouldn't do trapeze while I was pregnant. That would be stupid.
cAnAdIaNlLaMaFaRmEr: WILL YOU PEOPLE SHUT UP? SOMEONE IS TRYING TO TELL A STORY HERE!
:pause:
anakin'sastooge: Ok… where was I?
mrsmaul: Band camp.
anakin'sastooge: Oh yeah. Well, this one time, at band camp, we were marching around in circles like we always do, only there was this cheesecake sitting out for us to eat cuz it was the last day of band camp, see?
cAnAdIaNlLaMaFaRmEr: Yes.
anakin'sastooge: And so I was staring at the cheesecake and I was like, "Cheesecake, you look so yummy… I wish I could eat you!" But Mr. Stalter, the band director, was like, "NO CHEESECAKE FOR YOU! MARCH!" But Ms. Yonker, our other band director, was really nice and gave me this cream puff… only I don't like cream puffs because this girl I ate lunch with describes them as crunchy bugs with gooshy yellow guts pouring out…
imatrekkie: heh heh heh…
anakin'sastooge: So anyway, I tried to eat this cream puff, but I ended up throwing up all over my trumpet, which was really sad, plus it didn't help that Mark Overholt kept calling me a "trumpet strumpet" and I was ready to beat him over the head with the bass drum. So Ms. Yonker let me go up to my room, and when I'm sick I always want my rubber ducky to be nearby because then I can sing the rubber ducky song which always cheers me up, only I found out that Ben Swanson had set fire to the rubber ducky and melted it into a puddle of goo inside the hotel bathroom sink. So I had no rubber ducky and I was throwing up and being angry and it really sucked.
cAnAdIaNlLaMaFaRmEr: Poor rubber ducky.
mrsmaul: Poor YOU, for concealing your secrets.
cAnAdIaNlLaMaFaRmEr: I don't have secrets.
mrsmaul: Everyone has secrets.
cAnAdIaNlLaMaFaRmEr: Nope. Not me.
mrsmaul: Come now. It's all right to admit your weakness.
cAnAdIaNlLaMaFaRmEr: Oh, that's easy. I struggle with forward motion.
mrsmaul: Oh?
cAnAdIaNlLaMaFaRmEr: Yup.
mrsmaul: Ah. Continue.
cAnAdIaNlLaMaFaRmEr: Well, see, I've been banging my head against the wall…
arwensolowhowearskhaki: oh-oh
cAnAdIaNlLaMaFaRmEr: And of course that hurts like heck because when you smack your head against the wall you raise a lump the size of a watermelon… and my head isn't even as big as a watermelon…
mrsmaul: A strange dilemma.
cAnAdIaNlLaMaFaRmEr: Yup. And then I get lots of headaches because I'm supposed to be the devil on this one girl's shoulder and I keep telling her to eat this crayon, but she has this angel who is quite frankly a bit of a slacker (her name's Alberta) who keeps telling her NOT to eat the crayon… so as you can see, I have my work cut out for me.
mrsmaul: Yes…
cAnAdIaNlLaMaFaRmEr: Plus this girl - the girl whose shoulder I'm on, you know - she's just so stupid. I mean, really. Don't you think a smart person would just automatically know not to eat a crayon?
mrsmaul: Yes…
imatrekkie: GAH! A STUPID PERSON! LET ME KILL HER! LET ME CRUSH HER HEAD LIKE A MELON UNDER THE TREADS OF AN ARMY TANK!
cAnAdIaNlLaMaFaRmEr: Plus she has this weird thing with Syndrome from the Incredibles. Don't ask me what that's about, because I'm sure I don't know. I try and bring her into the realm of good taste… you know, guys like Gerard Butler and Heath Ledger, whose name is actually Heathcliff… isn't that exciting? I want to marry someone named Heathcliff.
mrsmaul: Ah…
cAnAdIaNlLaMaFaRmEr: And her name is Gladys Gertrude. I mean, really. She has an angel on her shoulder named Alberta Louise Pinkerton, and then she's got to go and have that horrible name. I don't understand it.
imatrekkie: Kill… stupid… alksfjdoadsufalkvjlajre0wao
mrsmaul: Perhaps we should close this discussion.
cAnAdIaNlLaMaFaRmEr: Technically I should own her soul because she actually did eat the crayon. Well, mentally she ate the crayon. So now her soul is mine to send out to eat crayons and seek Heath Ledger.
mrsmaul: SHUT UP!
cAnAdIaNlLaMaFaRmEr: And I'm just waiting for Heath Ledger to show up and propose to me so I can move to Canada and start my Canadian Llama Farm… oh, wait, I think it's supposed to be Orlando Bloom who marries me… but who needs that loser, right?
mrsmaul: AAAAAAAAGGGGHHHH!
- - - - - - - - -
The Canadian Llama Farmer had no secrets. None at all. And now that he'd asked, and she'd been revealing her weaknesses to him, he couldn't get her to stop. It was a raging torrent of useless information, trapped inside this Llama Farmer's head. For example, he discovered that October was National Repair Your Toilet Tank Month, as well as Cookie Month, and that Talk Like a Pirate Day had been about a month ago.
"AAAAGH!" Maul leapt away from the computer as though it were poisonous, clutching at his head. "Too… much… useless… information… must… kill… targets… GAH!"
And Maul ran outside in a flurry of black robes, rage rising like a red mist before his eyes. It was time to finish this useless mission - time to destroy these screaming fangirls, and move on.