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What If Irvine Welsh Wrote Star Wars?
Choose the Dark Side. Choose a fucking big lightsabre. Choose bulls-eyeing swamprats on your T-52 back home. Choose wide-screen, computer-generated, soul-less crap. Choose a Death Star. Choose the Dark Side. Choose dicking around some godforsaken dustbowl going quietly crazy picking Jawas out your fucking sandwiches. Choose a luxurious pad on Tattoine with dancing girls and your own private band. Choose wasting your life hanging around with the galaxies most irritating teenager while he whinges and pouts like a reject from Dawsons Creek. Choose a bad haircut. Choose good health, low cholesterol and a bionic hand. Choose a life of celibacy and never-ending sexual frustration when all you really want to do is get butt-naked and wave your willy around. Choose itchy-scratchy robes. Choose some hokey religion. Choose a good blaster. Choose your future, choose the Dark Side. But why would I want to do a thing like that? I chose not to choose the Dark Side, I chose something else. And the reasons? There are no reasons! Who needs reasons when you've got heroin?
Now, I've justified this to myself in all sorts of ways. 'It wasn't a big deal, just a minor betrayal,' or, 'we'd outgrown each other', that kinda thing. But, let's face it, I treated them pretty badly, my so-called mates. As for Mace though, I couldn't give a shit about him, he's a fucking psycho after all, and Qui-Gonn, he'd have fucked me over if he hadn't been cut to pieces first. And Jar-Jar, well, I felt pretty bad about Jar-Jar, he'd never done anything to hurt anybody. Which is why I felt particularly bad about feeding him feet-first into that giant meat-grinding machine. He did make a fucking tasty mince pie though, went down a treat after the match with a bit of salt'n sauce.
Why did I do it you ask? Well, I could offer a million answers, all false. The truth is that I'm a bad Jedi, but that's gonna change. I'm going to change. This is the last of that sort of thing, no more random slaughtering of defenceless yet incredibly irritating wankstains. I'm cleaning up and moving on, going straight and choosing life. I'm looking forward to it already. I'm gonna be just like you -- the job, the family, the starter home, the leisure wear. No more of this Jedi Mitochlondrian crap. I'm going straight.
"Obi-Wan! Obi! Wake up man!"
I felt a hand shaking me rudely from my slumber. I could smell puke and piss, and I hoped it wasn't my own. "Whit? Whaddaya want?"
"Come on man, we've goat a fuckin' ace plan!"
"Aww no Mace, no another wan oh yer fucking plans!"
"C'mon, get yer fucking lazy arse up oot a that bed. Maul and I have cracked it this time. We're gonna be rich wee man. Rich, d'ya fucking hear me?"
Mace Windu could be a royal pain, and hearing his voice first thing in the morning is a little bit like that feeling you get when your stomach cramps up and you know you've got about 3 minutes before the whole fucking world falls out your arse wi' explosive velocity.
"What? What's yer grand fucking plan this time? If this is another Bantha smuggling scheme, then I don't wanna hear it! Ahm a fucking Jedi, remember?"
"Naw man, we're gonna get into porno. Real hard-core stuff. Tuskan porno."
"Tuskan porno? Awjesus, I don't think I want to hear anymore." I tried to roll over and go back to sleep, but that cottonwool feeling in mouth told me it was going to be a wasted effort. Besides, antagonising Mace was pretty fucking stupid, he had a tendency to bottle first and ask questions later.
"C'mon Obi-Wan, we need you to talk to that Princess friend o' yours!"
"What? Why?"
"So she can be the star in our fuckin' porno man! Ami-fuckin-dala and the Tusken-fuckin-raiders!"
"Fucking hell Mace, Princesses don't do porno! They just don't fucking do it. Dae ye unnerstand?"
"Ah'll be able to convince her, just you see."
"No you fucking won't."
"But Obi-Wan, I am the Galaxies coolest fucking black man. Ah can do anything. And mah dick is almost as large as my fucking Light-Sabre. Ah've goat mind-tricks so I have."
"Fucking hell Mace! You're no a fucking black man! Ye come from fuckin' Paisley!"
"Ahm fucking black! And ahm one bad motherfucker!"
"You're pale fucking blue! Jesus man! You're SCOTTISH! We're both fucking Scottish! Would ye leave it alone?"
"No man, no way, we're not! I don't want to be that! Anything but fucking that!"
"Christ Mace, listen to yourself! Just have some more fucking heroin, c'mon, it won't seem so bad then. Trust me."
"Fuck. So ye're sayin' that Princess of yours winnae dae the porno?"
"I seriously doubt it Mace. Princesses just don't give head. It's like, a rule. That an anal sex, just totally aff the cards."
"Shit... Say, whit aboot that wee green fella?"
"Yoda? Hell, yeah. He'll do it. That little perv will do anything if the money is good enough."