My neighbor, the Dark Lord of the Sith
On a sticky summer morning, I finished the remainder of a cinnamon raisin bagel, then stepped outside to check the mail. There was a large moving truck being unloaded by three massively-swollen delinquents in the neighboring driveway.
The Andersons had moved to South Dakota months ago, and I’ll admit I was morbidly curious what sort of neighbor I’d be stuck with next. There were only the shifty-looking mover men, however, no homeowner-types in sight.
Throughout that day, I braved the balmy heat of my front yard for a chance introduction with the incoming neighbor. I felt silly sipping my third lemonade, taking up residence like a peeping tom in a beat-down lawn chair. My perseverance finally paid off once the front door rapidly swung upon.
I’ll be goddamned if it wasn’t Emperor-FUCKING-Palpatine shuffling out from behind the screen door, complete with cloak, cane, and evil lightning crackling about his body. The cruel Palpatine locked eyes with me immediately, displaying a firm disgust while my jaw fell to the grass.
The man who toppled a republic and drove the Jedi to near extinction was standing 30 feet from me, no doubt judging the poor condition of my landscaping. I made up my mind then and there - I wouldn’t show any signs of weakness or allow him the upper hand in the coming domestic war. He would think twice about letting his poodle shit in my yard, you better fucking believe it!
I participated in the staring contest for a moment, then marched back into the house to dig up my lightsaber. I searched for it high and low, fearing it sold in a yard sale. Lord only knows why my wife, in her infinite wisdom, hid the lightsaber in kitchen junk drawer for our kids to cut their arms off, but there it sat. I held the cool hunk of metal in my hand, repeating over and over in my head, “Not today, MOTHERFUCKER” until I had the balls to head for the door.
When I stepped foot on my porch, I ignited the emerald blade, held it high above my head, and shouted for ole’ Palpy to get the fuck out of MY SUBDIVISION. Heroically, I jumped high in the air, ready to swing on this dickhead for maximum be-heading.
The son-of-a-bitch popped me quick with a nasty charge of Sith lightning, knocking me right out of the air. I lay on the ground completely barbecued, wondering what the hell I had been thinking. Palatine leaned over me, laughing maniacally. That wrinkly old prick.
“Mow your lawn,” he grunted, “it’s an embarrassment.”
He hit me again with the lightning, this time catapulting me way into the air. Why is it that falling is the only way my nightmares ever end?
From then on, I decided it was best not to watch all six Star Wars movies in a single viewing. It really fucks with your dreams, man.
