Chapter 49AE

'Ding Dong, The Sith Is Dead!'

'Return of the Event Planner: Death is Calling'

'RIP –Sympathy Cards from the Edge'

'Psychology of the Sith'

Screen Crawl:

The Sith world is in mourning. Their deposed former leader of the Old Empire has met his maker. On the other hand, the rest of the galaxy is elated. Bells toll across the core worlds to celebrate the event. Cards and letters overwhelm the Coruscant City Postal Service. There is dancing in the streets. Cards arrive at the Skywalker house congratulating the family on a death they can be proud of. Meanwhile, Han receives some much-needed comforting from his wife. Choosing the wrong words when speaking to the Dark Lord can be harmful to one's health.

'Ding Dong, the Sith Is Dead!'

Han is sitting on a kitchen stool. Leia hands him a white tea towel wrapped around a plastic bag filled with ice.

"Here you go."

Han holds the ice pack to his left temple.

"Why did he have to hit me? He has no sense of humor!"

"Han, you brought it on yourself. You constantly antagonize him. What's wrong with you? On top of that, you didn't have to remind him that he's nearsighted."

"He's nearsighted and not any smarter with a pair of glasses."

A voice calls out from the living room.

"I heard that!"

Leia yells back.

"Daddy, you just calm down!"

Han looks at Leia.

Neither one of you has an 'inside voice'"

"Shut up!"

"So is there going to be a funeral or are they just going to float the old guy on a barge and set it ablaze?"

"I have no idea."

"Geez! Why did he have to hit me like that? This bruise is going to last for days."

"Be quiet before I give you one on the other side of your face." She flicks him on the head.

"Ow! Hey, that hurt!"

The doorbell rings. It has been ringing constantly since the news broke.

Isabel's parents stop by with food. Mara was about to leave with Luke when she sees the trays of food arrive. Anakin is on the phone in his den. He speaks with Father Valentin as he cleans his new glasses with the special lens cloth. The call is brief. Anakin returns to the living room and walks over to Isabel.

"He said no."

Obi-Wan sits in the corner laughing.

"Here's to good ol' Father Valentin! Smart man." He takes a sip from his shot glass.

Mara laughs.

"Are you sure he didn't say 'Hell No!' I would have. Hehehee!" She opens a humorous pop-up 'sympathy' card and giggles.

Isabel's mother chimes in as Mara offers to take one of the food trays from her.

"Anakin, are you surprised? The man was a Sith. No one is going to give that despicable man a funeral Mass. He caused you so much pain and suffering…and now death…His dying has freed us all."

Isabel's father, Nakai passes a tray of food to Luke.

"She couldn't stop talking about it during the drive over here. I say, let's move past this."

Luke shrugs.

"I agree."

Obi-Wan walks over and hands Nakai a shot glass filled with his favorite brown liquid.

"And, I say, let's celebrate with a drink!" He is about to pour a drink for Luke. Luke politely declines.

"I'm good. Thanks, Uncle Ben."

"Then I will drink on your behalf. Skol!" The white-haired Jedi master quickly gulps down Luke's drink.

Anakin returns to his study. He is working out the details to retrieve Palpatine's body from the TaggeMart facility and have it transported. The quicker this matter is resolved, the better. The holidays are drawing near and everyone agrees that the TaggeMart incident needs to be closed and buried post haste. Anakin tries to put the issue of Palpatine's demise to rest.

After several phone calls he has no luck. None of the funeral homes he has called in Coruscant will accept the remains. Vic Jade knows of someone who owes him a favor. He contacts Armadiglio Buonamorte, a mortician from Corellia. Vic tells Buonamorte:

"You owe the Don a favor."

"What Don? Who is Don?"

"Anakin Skywalker."

"No I don't. I don't even know him. Who is he?"

"Whatever! In one hour he will be at your funeral parlor to ask for your help. Be there to greet him."

Meanwhile, accepting the fact that Father Valentin cannot offer a burial Mass for old man Palpatine, Anakin looks elsewhere. A simple memorial service is offered instead at an unused chapel across the cathedral plaza. Anakin considers some options that will not offend anyone. But, first things first. The old Sith needs to be transported to the funeral parlor for servicing.

A nervous Armadiglio Buonamorte stands at the elevator as the Dark Lord makes his descent into the mortuary basement, Anakin is flanked by ten stormtroopers, a red cloaked guard, Vic Jade, and two of Jade's 'associates', including Aldo 'Big Sarlacc' Can'Apiz and Paulie, his driver. Vic places his hand on Buonamorte's shoulder.

"Well, my friend, are you ready to do the Dark Lord this service?"

Buonamorte quivers nervously as Vic and several stormtroopers surround him. The mortician is pinned in with no means to escape. He sneaks a glance at Anakin's imposing figure and then looks at Vic Jade. In a timid voice, he responds.

"Yes. What do you want me to do?"

They walk into the embalming room where a corpse lies on a table in a hump. The medical capsule hovers off to the right side of the table. Palpatine's employee badge has fallen inside the capsule. Anakin stares at the mortician.

"What? Are you joking? This body has been here for at least two hours and you haven't looked at it yet? I want you to use all your powers, and all your skills. I don't want my kids to see him this way."

The only thing that Buonamorte can utter is: 'Be my friend?'

Anakin draws back the sheet to reveal, to a horrified Buonamorte, the freakishly contorted body of the former Emperor Palpatine. The hair on his head is no longer that of the well-coiffed elder statesman and Sith master. It is a shock of white willowy strands. It is as if something had frightened the old Sith. Anakin points to the corpse.

"Look how that machine destroyed his body! He can't even fit inside a coffin in this state."

The timid mortician recoils in horror covering his mouth with the back of his hand..

"Ewww!"

With the funeral arrangements set, Anakin and his guards leave to let Vic Jade deal with Buonamorte. Vic points to the nervous funeral director.

"Make sure everything is perfect for the viewing tomorrow."

Buonamorte nervously pulls out a handkerchief and blots the sweat from his face and neck.

As Vic Jade and his associates leave the funeral home, Big Sarlacc jokes as they head to the parking bay to get into their speeders. Paulie Sleazebaggano is Vic Jade's driver. Paulie laughs.

"Oooh, geez, did you see that old coot? That old Sith was tied up like a pretzel! Funniest thing I ever saw."

Paulie slaps Big Sarlacc on the back.

"Hah-hah! Yeah! That had me cracking up back there."

Big Sarlacc responds by shoving skinny Paulie with such a force that Paulie almost falls to the ground.

Vic slaps the burly henchman upside the head with a funeral fan he picked out of a tray outside Buonamorte's office. There is a slogan and hologram of the funeral home on the fan: 'Let Us Fan Away Your Sorrows at Buonamorte & Sons'.

"Hey! A little respect, you fat jokeman! That's the dark lord in mourning back there. Stop fooling around!"

"Oh, sorry, boss."

Vic notices that the speeder is parked incorrectly.

"Paulie, you parked my speeder too close to the wall. The paint job is ruined. This is the third time you scratched up the paint job."

"What? Looks fine to me. If you ask me, you complain too much, Mr. J…"

"I didn't ask. Go pull it out of the parking space."

Paulie sulks and unlocks the speeder with the remote. Vic pulls Big Sarlacc aside as Paulie drives the speeder out of the parking space. Paulie seems to only increase the damage to the speeder. The accelerator throttle grinds and makes an ungodly sound. Vic watches with dismay as he speaks to Big Sarlacc.

"Paulie's been 'effing' up big time lately. It's those death sticks That whole Sleazebaggano family's got problems with that junk."

"Yeah, I've noticed it too, boss. I tried to warn him."

"I need you to take care of this before the funeral. Capisce?"

"Yeah, boss."

"Don't forget the cannoli on your way back."

"Got it, boss." Big Sarlacc is about to do what is asked of him then turns to Vic Jade, "Hey, boss what's the cannoli for?"

"My daughter…what do you care? Get goin'!"

Shortly after the departure of Anakin, the guards, and Vic Jade, there is a gathering across the plaza from the Buonamorte Funeral Home. Since there is much shock that the elderly sith lord has finally met his maker; a group of city officials arrive to confirm the death. A hastily constructed bandstand is located on the plaza adjacent to the funeral home. Artoo decides the event is something that should not be missed. Threepio reluctantly follows the Astromech droid.

"Are you sure this is a good idea? Master Ani is in mourning. Perhaps we had better stay close to home in case he needs our support….What do you mean he's too wrapped up with the funeral arrangements to see what's really going on? You think you know so much. Perhaps you don't know what's going on. I don't know why I follow you on these ridiculous missions in the first place. It could only spell trouble."

Mayor Trey Duna arrives for what appears to be a dedication ceremony. He wears a top hat, a red sash, and a Felucian carnation adorns the lapel of his tuxedo jacket. He is beaming as he prepares to make a brief speech to a small but growing crowd; most are curious spectators in addition to a few visiting Jawas and Ewok who are present for the occasion.

Also in attendance is Barrister Otha Tevarkian who is now a local celebrity since his high-profile cases involving former Chiefs of State of the Galactic Alliance. He embraces his renewed celebrity. Mayor Duna shakes the barrister's hand speaks into the microphone as he joins him at the podium.

"As Mayor of the Coruscant City, in the County of the Land of Core Worlds, I welcome you most regally."

Barrister Tavarkian waves to the crowd and responds.

"But we've got to verify it legally, to see." He breaks into a forced smile and waves to the crowd. He notices the press cameras.

Mayor Duna is a bit dimwitted, forgetting why they have gathered today.

"To see?"

Barrister Tavarkian gestures with his hand as he points to the body in eternal repose on the bier.

"You know…if he…you know…"

Mayor Duna appears confused and then looks over at the funeral bier that was hastily pulled out of the Buonamorte Funeral Home as soon as Anakin had driven away. Buonamorte runs out behind the band of "body snatchers" but others hold him back. He looks around, hoping that neither Vic Jade, nor Anakin return to witness the spectacle. He continues to dab his face with the handkerchief as the casket rests precariously upon the rickety bier.

"If he who?"

Barrister Otha Tevarkian rolls his eyes and tries not to be obvious; but the mayor is still puzzled. "Him." The barrister nods his head towards the cold pale corpse of the former Sith emperor. "I know…morally…ethically, it is crucial…to be sure."

Three Jedi priests nod in agreement.

Jedi Priest No.1 steps forward.

"Spiritually, physically."

Jedi priest No.2 is a Monsignor. He steps forward.

"Positively, absolutely."

The Ewoks nod in unison. The Monsignor continues speaking.

"Undeniably and reliably Dead."

Jedi priest No. 3 shrugs as if in doubt before he agrees with the Ewoks. Apparently, he recently returned from the monastery after taking a vow of silence.

The Coruscant City Coroner, wearing a stethoscope, leans over the body of the former emperor. After examining the pale corpse for a few minutes, he lets the stethoscope hang around his neck. He slowly approaches the podium to speak.

"As coroner, I must aver, I thoroughly examined him…and it is my conclusion, he's not only merely dead, he's really most sincerely dead." He immediately presents a Kyber crystal death certificate for everyone on the plaza to witness. A murmur of 'Oohs and Ahhs' can be heard throughout the crowd.

Mayor Duna raises his fists in the air.

"Then this is a day of Independence…for all the Ewoks, Jawas and their descendants…and others who suffered under the reign of tyranny of the evil Empire."

Barrister Tavarkian speaks, "If anyone cares to testify…"

Mayor Duna leans in to agree, "Yes, let the joyous news be spread. The wicked Old Sith at last is dead!"

The crowd responds with thunderous applause.

Mayor Duna raises his hands to get the crowd's attention again. Something is happening at the podium. Someone is being hurried up to the platform to join the other dignitaries.

Please! May I have your attention? We have a hero to thank for this splendid occasion. His deed cannot go unrecognized. TaggeMart Junior Manager…" He covers the microphone and says something to the person approaching the podium. The crowd can still hear him. "What's your name again, young man? Oh…okay…" The mayor turns to speak into the microphone again. "Tyler Spingol is the one responsible for the death of Old Palpatine."

Tyler is reluctant to approach the bandstand. He is wearing his TaggeMart Junior Managers' vest and name tag.

"Really, I can't take the credit. It was truly an accident."

"Oh, come now, son; don't be modest. Only good things will come of this. What do you think about a scholarship?"

"Sure…or a ten speed swoop bike would be awesome."

"Sure! You got it, kid! Say a few words to the folk out here on the plaza."

Mayor Duna and Barrister Tavarkian shove him in front of the microphone at the podium. They smile proudly as they wait for the stunned teen to make a speech. Tyler nervously leans into the microphone as the crowd waits.

"Uhmm…Yo…what up?"

There is a long silence. Suddenly the crowd cheers.

Threepio joins in and pats Artoo on his head.

"Oh joyous day! He is dead, Artoo! He is dead! Our troubles are over!"

The diminutive Jawas and Ewoks dance and sing a merry tune. The distinctive chirping of the Jawa and Ewok language can be heard above the crowd. Groups of Ewoks march in two synchronized circles lead by an Ewok bugle horn and drum band.

Ewoks:

Ding Dong! The Sith is dead. Which old Sith? The Sidious Sith!
Ding Dong! The Wicked Sith is dead.
Wake up - sleepy head, rub your eyes, get out of bed.
Wake up, the Wicked Sith is dead. He's gone where the gundarks go,
Below - below - below. Yo-ho, Yub Yehk Lulalar Yupyup.
Ding Dong' the merry-oh, sing it high, sing it low.
Let them know
The Wicked Sith is dead!

Jawas:

Utinni! Umpee Shanay kaput
Ding Dong! Ubanya
Wake up - sleepy head, brush the sand off your bed.
Wake up, the Wicked Sith is dead. He's gone where the Sarlaccs go,
Nufuzu - nufuzu - nufuzu. Yo-ho, let's open up and sing and ring the bells out.
Ding Dong' the merry-oh, sing it high, sing it low
Let them know
Hkeek nkulla Hunya Umpee Shanay kaput!

The disjointed dancing by the diminutive creatures from Tatooine is farcical. Some of the Jawas nearly trip over their brown robes. The coroner closes the coffin and gives the mortuary laborers the signal to carry it inside the funeral home. Someone in the crowd tosses a bottle of Rodian orange soda at the coffin. The sticky liquid splatters across the top of the casket.

Anakin is on his way back home when his mobile phone rings. He rolls his eyes and sighs.

"Hello."

"Ahh! Mr. Skywalker! So glad to talk to you. It's me! Rolf!"

"Yes, I know. What do you want?"

"I wanted to ask you about your daughter's Queensshania"

"My Daughter's what?"

Anakin knows exactly what Rolf means but he enjoys listening to the annoying event planner butchers the pronunciation.

"Miss Ana-Lena's Keen-seen-nehr-rhaa."

"Are you trying to say 'Quinceañera?"

"Ja, Ja! Keen-seen-nehr-rhaa! That's it!"

"Listen, Rolf, I can't discuss that now. There's a death in the family in case you didn't know."

"Ahso! Ja, I recall now. I heard about a big festival for the Dahk Laud Palpateen. Do you want me to ahrange a celebrashon?".

"A what?"

"Because, Ah kahn do anything at the last minute you know…"

"No!"

"Really? If you're worried about the time…"

"Are we having a failure to communicate? I said, No!"

"Ja, aber…"

"Listen, Dahbadaba-do." I said, No! Nein! Nicht, Nope!"

There is a brief silence. Anakin knows he has probably hurt Rolf's feelings. But as always, Rolf is quick to recover from any barbs that the Dark Lord may throw at him.

"I just want to helfe. You should not carry such a heavy burden ahn your shooldurs. You are in mourning and cannot fahcus right now."

"What?"

"Fahcus…you know…think about utha sings."

"You mean 'focus'?"

"Ja! That's what Ah said! Anyway, I give you a big funeral discount. When is a gut time to talk? Shall put somesing together? I surprise you, Ja?"

"No!"

"We vill talk later, Ahkay?"

"No!" Anakin disconnects the call.

He takes a turn off the Coruscant Exit 66 and drives until he reaches a place of comfort. He walks to the building and takes the elevator.

Carol is at her desk. She looks up from her plasma monitor.

"Hello, Mr. Skywalker. I don't believe you have an appointment today."

He keeps walking past her desk.

"Make one up, Carol."

"But she isn't taking patients today. She's about to leave. She's in a meeting!"

Anakin enters the office. Dr. Melfi is on a conference call. Holograms of several doctors are seated at a conference table in Cloud City. Anakin watches the holograms for a moment. The doctors see him and are bemused by his sudden appearance.

"You will have to resume your meeting at another date. I need to speak to my doctor."

He waves his hand and disconnects the hologram. The transmission fizzles out like an electrical shortage. Anakin hops on the white leather chaise.

Dr. Melfi remains calm as she tries to reason with him.

"Mr. Skywalker, This is highly inappropriate."

"So are your rates but I still come here, don't I? My issues are more pressing than a meeting with those quack doctors on Cloud City. I'm in mourning. I need to talk."

"You are the only one in mourning. I believe you have a feeling of obligation to the old man because he took care of you. You needn't feel guilty about his passing."

"That's it?"

"Yes. Now stop wasting my time and get out of my office."

"Alright, alright! Are you charging me for this visit?"

"Yes."

"Fair enough."