Disclaimer: Star Wars is not mine, and neither are any of the characters in this story…
It's Called a LIGHTSABER
"Luke!"
I'm already halfway up the steps and out the door when Aunt Beru calls me. Mentally groaning, I turn around. "Yes, Aunt Beru?"
"Where are you going?" my blue eyed aunt asks me, meeting me at the door frame. "You know Uncle Owen wanted you to disassemble that vaporator today before dinner."
Ah, how I love Aunt Beru. She's the sweetest lady in the galaxy. I really do love her—especially when she forces me to listen to my uncle. And right now, I'm kinda ticked because I wanted to go play with Biggs Darklighter, my best friend. "Do I have to, Aunt Beru? I wanted to go meet Biggs and play Clone Wars with him. I promised him I would, and he's gonna be mad at me if I can't play with him again."
Aunt Beru just smiles and pats my head. "Then do your work. Once you've taken care of that vaporator, you can go play or do whatever it is that thirteen-year old boys do these days."
I groan almost audibly and grab my toolkit before hopping in my landspeeder to take care of that vaporator.
It has to be close to mid-afternoon, and the sun is scorching hot. I've disassembled the radiator, and now I have to load it into the speeder. As I start storing the pieces away, I realize that one of the poles is the perfect length for a life-saver, or whatever those things are that the Jedi had in the Clone Wars.
I stick one of the tallest poles deep into the sand and imagine that it's a bloodthirsty clone trooper. "AARRGGHH!" I yell as I attack it, whacking it mercilessly. "Take that and THAT and that and THAT and even THIS, you scum of the Republic!" I thrust at it and parry invisible blasterbolts that only I can see.
"Running away, are you?" I demand, advancing upon the pole. "Oh no! You've got reinforcements!" I stick another two poles in the sand behind the original one. "Well, my life-saver can beat your stupid blasters any day!" I attack all three of them, ducking and twisting and turning as if I was really being fired upon.
Behind me, I hear a chuckle. I whirl about, keeping my pretend life-saver in attack position. "Who's there?" I see no one, and as I turn about slowly, I hear the sound of sand being brushed aside as someone makes a hasty exit from the land around me. I know it isn't a Tusken Raider because the foot prints have been made by boots.
Too late, I hear the whine of another landspeeder approaching. "Luke! What are you doing? I thought I told you to disassemble the vaporator and bring it back to the house so that I can fix it!" It's Uncle Owen, and he's ticked. Which means I'm about to have my head handed to me on a transparasteel platter.
"I'm almost done, Uncle Owen," I say, uprooting the poles I had been attacking and dragging them over to my landspeeder.
"Get yourself home as soon as you've got them secured!" Uncle Owen orders. His face is a mask of fury, and I wonder how much he's seen.
"Aww, Uncle Owen. I was just playing."
"I don't ever want to see you play that again. The suns know we've had our share of Jedi and clone troopers, and they aren't fun. I want you to get home." With that, Uncle Owen turns his speeder and returns to our home.
I sigh as I strap in the vaporator parts before I climb into the driver's seat. Something crinkles as I sit down, and I reach down and find a piece of durasheet. And I know that it wasn't Uncle Owen who laughed as I attacked the poles, because the durasheet says,
IT'S CALLED A LIGHTSABER, NOT A LIFE-SAVER!