[begin funky Python-style animation]
Cartoon Michael A. Stackpole: [writing something or other] Hmm hmm -- [boom] [scribbles all over the page] Oh! Great scott! Hm. Hmm. [boom] Hm! Hmm. [mumble mumble mumble] [scurries down stairs] [boom] [mumble mumble mumble] [more stairs] [boom] [this goes on for quite some time] [boom] [mumble mumble mumble] [boom] Ohh! [crash] [mumble mumble mumble] [boom] [scurries outside to see Cartoon AFWers jumping up and down on the hill]
Cartoon AFWers: Ay, up! Thsss. [jump] [boom] Ayy, up! [jump] [boom] Thsss. [jump] [boom] Ayy, up!
Cartoon Michael A. Stackpole: Stop that! Stop that! [boom]
Cartoon AFWers: Ay, up!
Cartoon Michael A. Stackpole: Stop that! [boom] Look on! Clear off! Go on! Go away! Go away! Go away! [one Cartoon AFWer keeps on jumping] And you! Clear off! [sniff]
Cartoon AFWers: [mumble mumble mumble] [bells]
Cartoon Michael A. Stackpole: Hah. Bloody fans.
[end funky Python-style animation]
As Sir Tycho, the blondest and most Alderaanian of the pilots, lost his way in the system of Kay-Jay-Ay, at nearby Moisture Farm Castle, a celebration was underway.
Setting: A small garret room in the Tall Tower of Moisture Farm Castle.
Owen: (gesturing expansively out the window) One day, lad, all this will be yours.
Luke: What, the curtains?
Owen: No, not the curtains, lad! All that you can see, stretched out over the canyons and sand dunes of this land. That'll be your kingdom, lad.
Luke: But, Aunt...
Owen: Uncle, lad, Uncle.
Luke: But, Uncle, I don't want any of that.
Owen: Listen, lad: I built this kingdom up from nuthin'. When I started here, all of this was desert! Other kings said it was daft to build a castle in a desert, but I built it all the same, just to show 'em! It sank into the desert. SO, I built a second one! That sank into the desert. So I built a third one. That burned down, fell over, then got chewed up by a Sarlacc who had made its home here while I wasn't lookin'. But the fourth one......stayed up. Well...after we drove the Sarlacc out. And that's what you're gonna get, lad: the strongest castle in this system.
Luke: But I don't want any of that! I'd rather...
Owen: Rather what?
Luke: I'd rather...just...meditate!...... [sits in lotus position on the floor]
Owen: Stop that! Stop that! [yanks him up by the collar] You're not going into a trance while I'm here! [aside] Bloody Jedi tomfoolery..... Now, listen, lad. In twenty minutes you're gettin' married to a girl whose father owns the biggest tracts of open land in the Meridian Sector.
Luke: But I don't want land!
Owen: Listen, Leia...
Owen: Luke. We live in a bloody desert! We need all the land we can get!!
Luke: But... but I don't like 'er!
Owen: don't like 'er?!? What's wrong with 'er? She's... beautiful, she's... rich, she's got... HUGE............. tracts o' land...
Luke: Ah...ah know. But I want the girl that I marry to have... a certain... special... something... [drops back down into lotus position]
Owen: Cut that out!! Cut that out.... [grabs Luke] You're marryin' Princess Bantha, so you'd better get used to the idea! [slaps Luke] GUARDS!!! [two Gamorreans come in] Make sure Luke doesn't leave this room until I come and get 'im. [starts to go]
Guard 1: grunt
Guard 2: Hic
Luke: [plaintively] but Uncle...
Owen: Shut your noise, you! And get that suit on. [leaves] [Owen re-enters] and NO MEDITATING!
Guard 2: hic
Owen: Oh, go and get a glass of water. (leaves)
Luke looks at the guards. They look at him. He smiles. They grunt back. He gets a datapad out. He smiles at them. They grunt back. He types something on it very fast, not looking at it. He smiles at the guards. They grunt back. Luke gets a bow and arrow from the wall. He sticks the datapad on the arrow. He smiles at the guards. They grunt back. He side-steps to the window. He smiles at the guards. They grunt back. He shoots the arrow with the datapad out the window. [boing] He puts down the bow. He smiles at the guards. They smile back.
Guard 2: Hic
Meanwhile, at a nearby stream, Sir Tycho approaches. We hear an X-wing engine in the distance. Sir Tycho appears, arms spread like he's flying, behind his R2 unit, who is making engine noises.
Tycho: Well taken, R2!
R2: [translation] Thank you, sir! Most kind.
Tycho: And again! Over we go! Good. Steady! And now, the big one! Uuh! Come on, R2!
R2: [translation] Message for you, sir.
Tycho: R2! R2! Speak to me! 'To whoever finds this datapad: I have been imprisoned by my uncle, who wishes me to marry against my will. Please, please, please come and rescue me. I am in the Tall Tower of Moisture Farm Castle.' At last! A call! A cry of distress! This could be the sign that leads us to the Holy Bacta Tank! Brave, brave R2, you shall not have died in vain!
R2: [translation] Uh, I'm-- I'm not quite dead, sir.
Tycho: Well, you shall not have been mortally wounded in vain!
R2: [translation] I-- I-- I think I c-- I could pull through, sir. I mean, I am a droid, sir.
Tycho: [a bit put out] Oh, I see.
R2: [translation] Actually, I think I'm all right to come with you, sir--
Tycho: No, no, sweet R2! Stay here! I will send help as soon as I have accomplished a daring and heroic rescue in my own particular... [sigh]
R2: [translation] Idiom, sir?
R2: [translation] No, I feel fine, actually, sir.
Tycho: Farewell, sweet R2!
R2: [translation] I'll, um, I'll just stay here then. Shall I, sir? Yeah.
Scene: The drawbridge of Moisture Farm Castle. Two Gamorrean guards stand there looking very bored. Off in the distance, they see Tycho running towards them waving his blaster in the air. They look at each other, then back at Tycho. They seem confused, or at least as much as Gamorreans can look confused. He does not get any closer, though he keeps running. The guards look at each other again. One taps his forehead. They lean on their pikes and idly watch Sir Tycho still running towards them and getting nowhere. They look at each other. Suddenly Tycho appears right next to them and blasts the hell out of them both. They die, considerably surprised.
Tycho runs through the castle, blasting, punching, kicking, and otherwise generally killing the entire populace. He fights his way up to the Tower through the throngs of bewildered wedding guests. He reached the Tower and throws open the door.
Guard 1: Urggh. [dies, blasted to bits]
Guard 2: Hic [also blasted to bits]
Tycho: [kneeling before the white-garbed figure in the room] Milady, here kneels the humble Sir Tycho, loyal son of Alderaan, pilot of Rogue Squadron, and I stand ready to deliver you from-- [sees it's a man, gets up immediately] Oh, I'm terribly sorry.
Luke: [claps hands delightedly] You got my datapad!
Tycho: Well, I got a datapad...let's not jump to conclusions...
Luke: I knew some one would read it and rescue me! I've got a rope all ready! [dispays shredded blanket made into rope] Let's climb down!
Owen: [barging in, quite upset] What's all this!?! [sees Tycho] Are you the one who killed all my guests?
Luke: He's come to rescue me!
Tycho: Well, let's not jump to conclusions--
Owen: Shut your noise, you. Did you kill those guards?
Owen: They cost fifty wupiupi each!
Tycho: [highly embarrassed] Well, I suppose I may have got...a bit... carried away with the moment...
Owen: Carried away?!? Look, whoever you are, you not only ruined my wedding reception, and caused me great mental anguish, but you killed the bride's father and kicked the bride in the chest! Now what sort of behavior is that??? Who are you, anyway?
Tycho: Well, I am Sir Tycho of Wedge Antilles' Rogue Squadron, and I--
Owen: Wedge Antilles?? Liberator-of-Coruscant Wedge Antilles? And you're one of his pilots?
Luke: I'm ready, Sir Tycho! [ties rope to table]
Tycho: Well...yes...and I'm awfully sorry about the fuss...
Owen: Fuss? Nonsense!! Why, Sir Tycho, consider yourself my honored guest, please! (quietly) Lots of valuable property up by Coruscant, eh?
Tycho: Well, I'm terribly sorry about killing all those people...and kicking the bantha--I mean the bride...
Luke: Hurry, Sir Tycho! [goes out the window]
Owen: Don't worry about a thing, sir. Just come downstairs with me, will you? I want to introduce you to everyone.
Tycho: Well, thank you....Thank you very much... [leaves]
Owen: I won't be a minute, Sir Tycho.... [goes to window, draws dagger]
Luke: (from outside) Are you coming, Sir Tycho? [Owen cuts the blanket-rope, which slithers out the window] Aaaaaaaahhhhhhh!!!!! (thump)
Owen: (liltingly) Coming, Sir Tycho...
Sir Tycho goes down the stairs. Upon recognizing him as the one who caused all the damage, the remaining guests shout such things as, "There he is!" and, "He's the one!" and, "Get him!" Tycho draws his blaster and goes berserk again.
Owen: Oh, bloody hell.
Tycho is at last subdued before causing too much damage, save only kicking the bride again, and Owen prepares to make a speech.
Owen: Ladies and gentlemen. This man whom you see beside me is my own honored friend, Sir Tycho of Rogue Squadron. He has come all this way just to---
Guest: He killed the bride's father!!
Owen: Oh, come now! Let's not bicker and argue about 'oo killed 'oo! Sir Tycho has come to celebrate with me the joyful occasion of my nephew's marriage to Princess Bantha. Unfortunately, my nephew Luke has just fallen to his death from the Tall Tower. (gasps) But, I like to think of myself, not as having lost a nephew, but as having gained a niece. For, since the father of the bride perished in most untimely circumstances....
Voice: He's not quite dead yet....
Owen: (thrown) Er...since her father has come so close to death as to be considered dead...
Voice: I think he's coming 'round!
Owen: [whispers to a guard, who circles towards the back of the room, where the father lies] Since her father, 'oo, when it seemed he was just on the verge of recovery, suddenly felt the icy hand of death upon him...
Voice: He's kicked off!
Owen: Right...I should like the Princess to think of me as her own Uncle. In the firm and legally binding sense. And, as this is meant to be a wedding day, I would like to welcome Sir Tycho into my family, and give him the hand of my new niece in earnest token of my esteem for him and his title. [pause, some feeble applause from the guards]
Tycho: [taken aback] Well, really, I must be going, I don't think--
Owen: Going? Nonsense! Why, how could you leave me at a time like this, so recently bereft of my only nephew?
R2: [translation] [entering with Luke] He's not quite dead yet! (general reaction)
Owen: Oh, bloody hell.
Voice: But, how on earth did you survive the fall from the Tall Tower?
Luke: Well, I'll tell you... [proceeds to go into trance]
Owen: No! Wait! Stop that! [But it is too late]
R2: [translation] Quick, sir, let's get out of here. This way.
Tycho: No, no. I need something more...more...
R2: [translation] Dramatic, sir?
Tycho: Dramatic! Right! This bell pull will do... [grabs bell pull. Runs up
stairs. Jumps in the air. Swings down towards the window. Falls about twelve
feet short, having not given himself a very good start. Swings back and forth
for a short time.] Err...could someone give me a push?
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