The Odds of Surviving Thirty Years are 3720 to 1!

It's a celebration of a lot of fans' favorite Star Wars episode, The Empire Strikes Back.

I remember it very well, as I saw it at least a dozen times in the theater. That was a lot of popcorn ago, but I have a little tribute here from one of the more important characters in the saga:


He awoke that morning, as he did every morning, in his gray, formfitting sleepcouch that matched the gray carpeting and wallpaper in his room. It was 0500 Bespin time, time for nutrients and a sonic shower.

Sometimes he missed taking water showers, but he couldn't risk shorting out his cybernetic implants. Ha, he thought, where would Baron Administrator Calrissian be without him and his implants?

The only thing that bothered him about his job, really, when it came right down to the nuts and bolts... the only thing that bothered him, besides the nuts and bolts, was his puffy yellow sleeves.

Blast it; he was just like that Vader fellow, half-man, half-machine. He should have a snazzy black leather outfit, too. He'd told Calrissian that disco was dead on twelve systems, but new uniforms just weren't in the budget.

And the day that Lord Vader arrived on Cloud City, everyone should have seen Lando shaking in his shoes, making deals right and left to save his own ass.

And who saved all their butts in the end? Who called out the troops and rescued the Princess and the Wookiee? He, Lobot, had. Ha, Calrissian had been lucky that Wook hadn't strangled him!

He sighed, remembering that day. His moment in the sun. And he'd spent it standing in front of Imperial Stormtroopers wearing puffy yellow sleeves.

When it came down to the nuts and bolts, that's what truly bothered him.




A few of my friends have written their own little wishes, and they're only a click away...

Happy Birthday ESB from the Official PLB Fan Fiction Club!

R2-D2
IG-88
Wes Janson
Carlist Rieeken
Capt. Needa