Deanna (seennotheard) wrote in metaquotes,

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Oh rule_of_three, you God of Internet...

I highly suggest you go and read his entire journal, especially his Fango! post... it was actually a tough decision of which I should post here, but since Fango! includes a picture (hand-drawn by rule_of_three himself), this seemed like the better choice.

And so with no further ado, I present to you my very first post here, entitled:

Somewhere, A Wookie Is Crying by rule_of_three

As many of you know, I enjoy getting into pointless debates with complete strangers. This is not, as you may guess, because I feel very strongly about the first amendment, but actually because I like to make people frustrated so I can feed off their emotions like some kind of vampire, only significantly less faggoty. And like all villains, vampires can easily be defeated by small children, especially ones that are pure of heart, or have cybernetic guns in their fingers. But mostly the former.

Before I begin this tale of woe, let me make a few things clear. First off, I did not, in the end, actually kill and eat the small boy. Second, I am not a Star Wars fanboy. I don't own any paraphanalia, I haven't gone to a Con, and I only own the really old, unremade trillogy. The made trillogy, if you will. I'm just a guy who remembers the days before George Lucas began injecting Nutella directly into his brainpan for that original hazelnut spread high. Anyway, my story.

I was outside, thoroughly enjoying the nice weather by indulging in moving a pile of dirt from point A to point B. While my parents were both inside enjoying their lack of sunlight, I was stomping back and forth between A and B, when suddenly the neighbor boy comes up to me, riding his tricycle. His shock of blonde hair could only be described as a shock, and his giant blue eyes practically radiated Aryan superiority. The sound of my inferior genes crying out in shame almost drowned out his greeting.

"Thank you for moving our couch for us," his father told him to say.

"Uh, no problem," I had, in fact, helped his father move a couch a few weeks earlier. He smiled at me for a minute or so, but said nothing more. I turned back to my labor, but, of course, he chose that moment to continue.

"I beat Darth Vader!" he said, proudly. I grimaced, but turned back to him. Tormenting fellow youths, or middle aged women is one thing, but I try to humor the mentally infirm, the elderly, and young children, if only because they provide no sport.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah! In my videogame!" he showed me his hand, which I noticed contained very little of either videogame or Darth Vader. So little, in fact, that I have no idea what the purpose of that gesture was. "I can't play anymore, though," he said.

"Why is that?" I asked, humoring him.

"Dad doesn't want me," he said sadly.

"Ah, haha!" I said awkwardly.

"I beat him with Han Solo," he told me. At first I thought maybe that he was refering to his father, because that would be a good reason to not want your son anyone, I should think. I chose to assume he meant Darth Vader, however, because my therapist tells me I have difficulty interpreting reality.

"That's nice. Han Solo is one of my favorites,"

"Really? Luke Skywalker is my favorite too!"

"What? I didn't even mention Luke."

"You said 'Han Solo is one of my favorites', so that means Luke Skywalker is your other favorite!"

I paused, stunned by his logic. I considered pointing out the fact that he was wrong, or pointing out that he was a filthy little monster who spewed lies from every orifice, but I know from experience that when you point at a child, all you get is bite marks. "Chewbacca is my favorite," I told him.

Then, that one word. That one, terrible, horrible, awful, no good, very bad word. "Who?" It was like a conversational SCUD missile. It flew through the air straight at me in slow motion. I could almost watch the air being pushed out of the way of that blasphemous syllable.

"The Wookie," I said, my mouth working on autopilot.

"The what?"

A paused for a moment, trying to regain my composure.

"The big, hairy guy? Hung out with Han Solo?"

"Oh. He's kind of dumb."

"WHAT? How can you say that? He's, like, the most badass character in the whole damned series! And even more, the relationship he shared with Han Solo was more touching, more real than any buddy relationship in any other movie that I have ever seen. What, my smallish friend, was 'dumb' about him?"

"He didn't do anything in the movies." Damn! More of his logic, this time actually based on facts. Despite his badassness, Chewie never really did anything in the movies. Oh, he shot at the Storm Troopers a few times, but he was practically a furry stage prop. I fall back on my other weapon.

"How about Boba Fett?"

"He's silly,"

"What?! He's totally hardcore! He's way better than Luke Skywalker! Luke started out a whiny farmboy, and ended up a whiny mystic. No improvement. I mean, Luke kissed his sister, Fett had a jetpack. It's no contest!"

"You're dumb! Obi Wan is the best anyway. He can turn invisible."

"What the hell are you talking about?" I cried, "You speak in riddles, Oh Demon of the Pit! What invisibility are you talking about?"

Despite my rage, the blaspheming tyke stood his ground. "In my LEGOs game. He turns invisible."

"LEGO games don't count! Argh! How fast can you go on that tricycle?"

"Pretty fast! Wanna see?"

"I might. You sure you can go fast?"

"Yep! Why?"

"Do you like Jar Jar Binks?"

"He's funny!"

I'd like to say that I took this in stride, that I forgave the little tyke for his youthful ignorance. But I didn't. And that is why, ten minutes later, my parents recieved a call from the neighbor telling them to keep me away from their son, because I had just attempted to capture and eat him.
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