Preface:

My viewer retention doesn't continue well past this chapter. Read at your own risk.

CHAPTER 5

Get 'im, Dad!

Boba Fett finally and triumphantly exited his ship's bathroom. After the shit of a lifetime, he was hungry. I mean, he had skipped like 3 days of meals because he had to shit so bad. Poor little Bobby was just skin 'n' bones at this point! Shit.

After a flush that seemed to last an eternity, and washing his hands for at least 2 minutes (what, you don't? Fucking swine), he had himself some fried chick'n and cornbread, just like momma used to make. Unfortunately for Mr. Fett, his mother never existed, because he's a fucking clone or some shit (his dad never really clarified that one), so the closest thing he's had to a mom is a giraffe-ass alien chick with a hat that looked like a shitty chastity belt for her head, and those weirdos didn't know cornbread from a fighter jet, so he was forced to look on a box of pancakes for maternal guidance. His new mother figure, Jemima, seemed nice enough, so he decided on it. Unfortunately, that meant making a lot of Jemima's home cookin', which included pancakes, pancakes, and other pancake-related condiments. After eating a shitload of pancakes to get ready for the battle, he promptly shit a load right back out. For three days.

If a colossal defecation situation was Boba's biggest issue, the battle had to be his second biggest. One day he was flying his Slave II around (Slave I was emancipated after the Galactic Civil War), and all of a sudden some big space bug appeared out of nowhere and started sending subliminal messages to his brain. He woke up the next day with a rib cage fracture and a pruny penis. However, he was also in another galaxy, surrounded by other people he had never met, in orbit around a planet he had never seen before. So, being a baddie, he just rolled with it.

First of all, even though they were supposed to be laying waste to this planet, Mr. Fettus decided he would get some sidequests done first. The one he was working on right now was for Darth Vader, who he had actually coincidentally met before, but who also denies to have ever met our lonely little Boba Fett. Anyway, Dr. Vader wanted someone to bring him Han Solo, who Boba had also coincidentally met before, but he had a hard time remembering the occasion probably due to binge-drinking and a close call with drug overdose. So, our intrepid Mr. Fett had cleverly docked his Salve 2 on the bottom of the Millennial Vulcan without his prey noticing. Classic Bobes.

So after wiping the grease off his chin and putting his leftover cornbread in a baggie for later, our villain Boba Fett donned his dented and shitstained armor and entered the airlock. Yeah, his armor sucked, but it was his daddy's armor, so it had sentimental value. His dad, Django Fett, had fought for the rights of Mandalorians for years until he was brutally assassinated by a racist Jedi at one of his rallies. So after his death, instead of taking up his father's cause, Boba decided he would become a Jedi hunter, which turned out to be a lot more lucrative because Jedi genitals are worth an assload on the black market. His hands were permanently stained from all the midi-chlorians and his contemporaries would call him "Boba the Ball-Snipper" and "Fett the Fallopian De-Tuber" and such titles, but they couldn't deny that he was the damn best.

Once he walked out the airlock, he took a nice stroll around the ship until he got to the Falcon's airlock, entered the passcode (it was 1234) and entered. It smelled awful and there was smoke everywhere, but the Millennium Falcon looked otherwise pretty tidy. He checked the rooms, but they were all empty. One room was locked and he heard sobbing coming from the other side of the door, so he just left that one alone. As he made his way to the main hold, the smoke got thicker and he started to hear what sounded like Judas Priest's "Breaking the Law" through his helmet's audio receivers. When he got there, he found two guys on the floor with rubber bands still tied around their biceps, completely passed out. This seemed pretty familiar to Bobes Fett, so he figured one of these guys was Hand So Low. He didn't recognize the other dude, so Bobe just left him there.

Fetty Bobe picked up the unconscious Mr. Solo and started to drag him towards the airlock when, out of the blue, it hit him.

The shit attack.

Fettus quickly dropped the weird space junkie and booked it towards the empty bathroom he had found earlier. He dropped trou just in time to lay what was perhaps the most massive duke he had ever duked in his life. The dung shot out of his body like napalm out of the gun of a grizzled and remorseless Vietnam veteran. His helmet steamed up so bad he took it off, and when he did, the worst smell imaginable assaulted his virgin nostrils. The last shit he had, he had the good fortune to have his noseplug on, but he wasn't prepared for this. No, sir, he was not.

The brown anaconda seemed to exit his body like the soul of a man who was slain in the most honorable of duels. There was no end to it. He was the shit, and the shit was with him. His asshole became the world. The more he pooped, the more he shat, and the more he shat, the more he… shat.

Suddenly, he heard a "ping" come from his helmet between his legs. He put it on for a second and saw that his proximity alarm was lighting up. Those two motherfuckers were waking up! It must have been the virulent, toxic shit smell that had cut through the smoke and began caressing their nose pussies. Amidst the grunting and the shitting, Boba Fett had the willpower to close the door to the bathroom and lock it. He prayed to the Mandalorian Gods that the door to the bathroom was soundproof.

(It wasn't!)

The Fettmeister heard voices from outside saying stuff. He couldn't exactly make out what they were saying over the massive fecal explosion emanating from his rectum. Wait, he thought. If I can hear them, they can most definitely hear me! Anxiety began to overtake our dear little Robert Fett. He heard footsteps and a voice yelling outside the door to the bathroom. Just as Boba went to grab his lazer gun, a fucking 10-pound shit baby birthed itself from his tuckus. He couldn't move, and just screamed like a teen mother giving birth, "GIT 'IM, DAD!" Finally the shitstorm of assteroids subsided and a normal flow resumed. He perked up his ears to see if anyone else was around. He didn't hear anyone. Maybe they didn't hear me, he thought. Maybe they passed it off as someone else in the bathroom!

Just then, Boba Fett began to realize that he was breathing rather heavily, and also that his eyesight was getting a bit blurry. Oh shit, he thought frantically. There must not be good ventilation in this bathroom! I bet all the air in the room is being replaced with shit fumes! Unfortunately for our flustered, toilet-ridden villain, he was exactly right. He was beginning to suffocate. Maybe if he opened the door to the bathroom a crack, no one would notice, and he could get a breath of fresh air. He went to open the door… and the latch wouldn't open. That's right, he thought. I locked it. He undid the locking mechanism only to find that the latch still wouldn't open. What the fuck? He jiggled it as hard as he could, to no avail. It must have been locked from the outside as well! When those guys were outside the door, they probably locked him in for some reason. Who the fuck has a door that locks two ways? And who the fuck does that? thought our suffocating villain, Bobalicious S. Fettius.

Apparently, Han Solo does that.

So, inhaling liters of nitrogen-rich fecal fumes and losing consciousness rapidly, Boba Fett frantically put his helmet on, because his helmet would filter his air to make sure he didn't die while he was unconscious. He got it on just in the nick of time before he passed out.

So that, dear reader, is the story of what Boba Fett was doing during the battle. Locked, unconscious, in the Millennium Falcon's bathroom with feces seeping out of his anus. Some say a fitting end for such an…

...asshole.

[JUDAS PRIEST]:

"You don't know what it's like!"

Han and Lando, on the other hand, were feeling great. They had an awesome drug bender, passed out seemingly for good, woke up for some reason feeling refreshed, and then locked some busta in the bathroom! Han had a feeling it was that Fetty guy, because he had been docked on the underside of the Falcon for a while. But when Han woke up, he realized that he got heavily sidetracked. He was supposed to fix the Swagtor Beams so they could get on the Death Star!

"Lando! Can fix swagtor beams?" Han was still inebriated as all hell. Lando nodded and ran to the cockpit. The hull shuddered, as if the Swagtor beams had activated. Han grinned and dashed in there, arms spread wide for his trademark "big ol' hug". Then he heard a scream.

"They told me they fixed it! It's not my fault!" Lando was going nuts in there, smashing stuff and violently humping the bulkheads (that are jam packed with pointy shit, too). Han, arms still spread wide, looked out the window and realized why he was so mad. It weren't their Swagtor beams that were pullin.

It were the Death Star's, son.

Next time on Untitled Fan Fiction:

We find out why the bad guys have such problems shitting!

Maybe Luke finally confronts Vader or something, I don't know!

Shepard-senpai gradually becomes an anime character!

Will the Borg make an appearance? Probably not, because they're boring as shit!

Will Darth Vader figure out the cause of his trashed room?

Find out next time on… MASS EFFECT 3: X-TENDED CUT!