The small, silver spacecraft came to a rest upon the black marble, which stretched on for nearly a kilometer in every direction. Near the craft loomed a thin, featureless tower which stretched up into the alien sky, which seemed to shimmer chromatically without any real change.
The cockpit opened and a strange, rodent-like creature climbed out. He was bipedal, and wore a featureless gray uniform, with goggles protecting his eyes and a DeLameter strapped to his waist. Pulling the goggles onto his forehead, the creature felt momentarily dazed by the sky, but soon acclimated himself. He walked towards the tower.
At first there did not appear to be any entrance. But as the tower grew closer, he noticed a small alcove, also featureless. He intuited that touching the alcove would both scan him and grant him entrance, and noted that the tower was spy-ray proofed by several layers of screens.
His intuition proved correct, and the alcove melted away to reveal a short tunnel which opened up into a stunning atrium. Its height seemed fathomless, and the walls, which seemed to stretch upwards into infinity, were almost completely covered with cthonic markings which seemed to tell an ancient, terrible history.
At the center was a conference table with two chairs at either end. The creature sat down at the closer one, producing a cigar from an invisible pouch. He lit it using a similarly invisible fire source.
Almost as if summoned by the fire, a horrifying mass of writhing tentacles emerged from the opposite wall and approached the table. “Ah, Josh W., I presume,” it said. One tentacle placed a bottle of Spacer’s Mark on the table, and another provided two glasses.
“As you say,” the creature said, taking a drag of the cigar, “I am Josh W., the only Great Mouse Lensman.”
“Really?” The tentacle thing said, pouring two drinks and sliding one towards Josh W.. “The Arisians must be lowering their standards these days.”
“And you are Xza!ltur, of the Tentacraftians,” Josh W. said, ignoring the insult.
“And you were expecting Greedo,” Xza!ltur said.
“No, I was expecting Xza!ltur. You didn’t cover your tracks well enough, Zwilnik.” Josh W. sipped his drink.
“Ah, I suppose that even you can be a clever man…mouse.”
“Let’s cut the pleasantries. I am here to give you an offer-”
“No,” Xza!ltur said, cutting him off, “I am here to give you an offer.” One of his tentacles produced a small vial. “The antidote.”
“For the poison you just drank!” the hideous monster exclaimed, stifling a laugh.
A sense of panic began to swell over Josh W., and he found himself mentally reciting the Litany Against Fear. “And what, perchance, is your offer?” He said.
Another tentacle slid some small rectangular objects across the table. They were Star Wars DVDs. “Review the Star Wars movies,” he said, “before the release of Episode VII.”
Josh W. coughed. “That’s already been done to death. I have nothing new to contribute.”
The monster dangled the vial in response.
“Very well,” Josh W. said, raising his glass as if to toast, “I would congratulate you for your victory, were you not a horrendous tentacle monster.”
A long long time ago, in a galax—everyone already knows the story, so let’s just move along.
An abstract archetype who was given flesh in an experiment conducted by his “Uncle” Owen and “Aunt” Beru. When his home gets destroyed by the Empire before he can learn the truth, he heads off with Obi Wan to become every RPG protagonist ever.
Having had an undistinguished political career on Alderaan, she would have been forgotten had she not been framed for insurrection by R2D2 as part of his Batman Gambit to bring down the Empire.
Meant to be the one classic thespian who brings a degree of Shakespearian gravitas to what is otherwise a very silly movie. Unfortunately, his most influential contribution to the medium was in popularizing the death of old mentors.
One of the few characters ever to come with an off switch. This innovation should be used more often.
The real mastermind behind the Rebellion. Most of the movie’s plot is orchestrated by him in a daring plan to get Luke to destroy the Death Star.
Although at first glance he seems to be the captain of the Millenium Falcon, in reality he is an allegory for the coolness which nerds desire but inevitably fail to achieve.
One of the rugs on the Millenium Falcon. Although he won’t admit to this, Han often treats it as an imaginary friend during long solitary voyages.
A low ranking officer of little importance. Obi Wan has a grudge against him due to a college prank, and so convinces Luke that Vader murdered his “father” in an attempt at revenge by proxy.
Years of battling Dracula have turned in into a monster himself. Now he lives only to blow up planets and write terrible YA fiction.
To be continued?