“No, dammit. I am NOT going to work on the weekend, and I’m going home on time today.” The entire office freezes as I say this to my boss, for I have uttered Harsh Words. He sits back and steeples his fingers. Giggles brim from his lips. It turns to maniacal laughter. “Well, Kent,” he says. “This is a welcome turn of events. We were hoping to slowly emasculate you through passive-aggressivity, but now?” He writhes in place and morphs into a Hutt that dwarfs Jabba. “Sah kootah day! Koos nooma!” (Translation: Move him into position! Put him in!) My coworkers circle me, one of them holding a metal bra. I open my eReader to Echo. Magic flash. Suddenly I’m holding a glowing green lightsaber. “Wrong character, dickhead,” I hiss at the one holding the bra. Then I’m slicing through them, leaving behind cauterized pieces of office drone behind me. They back away, slowly pushing me toward the plate glass window. I edge toward it, my lightsaber buzzing as I twitch from side to side, warning them off. “While we’re at it,” I say in a gravelly whisper, “how about we switch movie references as well.” I voice one of those half-mongoloid Christian Bale growls (come on, they should have just gotten Kevin Conroy for the voice), elbow through the window, and latch onto a Bat-glider. Hans Zimmer’s score erupts from the air and I fly away wearing a badass smile. (Yeah they got the music right).