Star Wars is the property of George Lucas and LFL. No profits were made and no disrespect is intended with this fic.

The Dirty Bothan Phrasebook
by Arwen

Five years after Endor, the Empire lay in ruins and aliens frequented the streets-many of them Bothans (not the streets - the aliens). Anyway, many of these Bothans went into stores looking to buy sex toys.

Borsk Fey'yla walks into Janson's Sex Toys For All Ages. Wes is in the back room, doing something that is causing pleasure, judging by his facial expression. His hands are down below his belt, but we cannot see them. He hears the bell, mutters "Always when I'm almost there!" and moves his hands. There is a loud popping noise and Wes sighs, stands up and zips his pants. He examines his hands, sniffs at them and wipes them on his pants. He walks out into the store.

Fey'yla is holding a datapad an inch from his nose. He walks straight up to the counter.

Fey'yla: I will not buy this lightsaber, it is scratched.

Wes: Sorry?

Fey'yla: I will not buy this lightsaber, it is scratched.

Wes: No, no, this is a sex toy store.

Fey'yla: *looks confused, gets look of sudden realization of obvious fact* Ah! I will not buy this sex toy store, it is scratched!

Wes: No, no, no! Sex toy store! You know, fuzzy hand binders! *holds some up*

Fey'yla: Ya! Phoo-zee-and-bind-ers! Ya! Ya! Uh- My X-wing is full of Ranats.

Wes: Sorry?

Fey'yla: My X-wing *mimes holding bottle* is full of Ranats. *mimes pouring it on model of girl on counter*

Wes: Ahh, chocolate licquer! *gets some*

Fey'yla: Ya! Ya! Ya! Do you vaaaant, Do you waaant to come back to my place? Bouncy bouncy!

Wes: I don't think you're using that thing right.

Fey'yla: Sithspawn!

Wes: *irritated* That'll be ten creds please.

Fey'yla: If I said you had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me? I am no longer infected!

Wes: May I? *takes datapad, scrolls through several screens* Aha! Dzingo myantak maku titi! (This is "Drop your pants, turn around, and spread your legs! I want some NOW!" in Bothan)

Fey'yla: *offended* What?! *punches Wes*

*Tycho, a bobby, hears the cry of distress and starts running. He runs several blocks to a spaceport. He jumps in a small ship, takes off, enters hyperspace, exits hyperspace, lands on this new planet, runs for a while, then bursts into the store.*

Tycho: What's going on in here then?

Fey'yla: You have beautiful thighs!

Tycho: *looks at himself, then back up* WHAT?!

Wes: He hit me!

Fey'yla: Drop your britches, Grand Moff! I cannot wait 'till lunchtime! *points at Wes*

Tycho: Right! *arrests Fey'yla*

Fey'yla: *indignant* My nipples explode with delight!

A courtroom. Nawara is a lawyer, and Wedge is the judge.

Nawara: Call Luke Skywalker!

Several voices sing this repeatedly. Wedge bangs his gavel.

Wedge: Stop that!

Luke climbs to witness stand. He wears nothing but a belt with his lightsaber hanging from it and a bow tie around his neck.

Nawara: You are Luke Skywalker?

Farmboy: *Vader-esque* I am.

Nawara: Skip the impersonations. You are Luke Skywalker?

Farmboy: I am.

Nawara: You are hereby charged that on the 15th day of the Month of February of this year you did willfully, unlawfully, and with malice aforethought, publish an alleged Bothan-Basic phrasebook with an attempt to create a breach of the peace. How do you plead?

Farmboy: Not guilty.

Nawara: You live at 37 Bumfuck Lane?

Farmboy: I do live at 37 Bumfuck Lane.

Nawara: You are the director of a publishing company?

Farmboy: I am the director of a publishing company.

Nawara: Your company publishes phrase books?

Farmboy: My company does publish phrase books.

Nawara: You did say 37 Assfuck Lane, did you?

Farmboy: Yes.

Nawara: *strikes a gong* Ah! Got him!

Wedge: Get on with it, get on with it.

Nawara: Yes sir. On the 15th day of February, you published this phrase book?

Farmboy: I did.

Nawara: I quote on example. The Bothan phrase meaning "Can you direct me to the spaceport?" is translated by the Basic phrase, "Please fondle my testicles."

Farmboy: (does a double take) I wish to plead incompetence.

Tycho: (stands) Please may I ask for a recess, your honor?

Wedge: A recess?! Certainly not!

Tycho sits down again, emitting perhaps the longest and loudest release of bodily gas in the history of the universe.

Wedge: Why in the hells of the Sith didn't you say WHY you wanted a recess?!

Tycho: I didn't know an acceptable legal phrase, your honor.

*A shot of partying Ewoks cuts into the programming. Wedge bangs his gavel and the courtroom reappears.*

Wedge: If there is any more footage of the Endor party, I'm going to clear the court!


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