Balls of the Wookie, I LOVE being an X-Wing pilot! I beast-mode through TIE fighters all day, EVERY day, knowu’m saying? Right now me and my buddies are lifting off, getting ready to assault something called the “Death Star.” I skated out of the launch brief and took a nap, but whatevs—I’m sure I didn’t miss anything important. You know, I heard Princess Leia just got back. I love me some missions, but I was tempted to ditch this one so I could go ask her out…
Nah—I never miss a mission. For now, I’ll just pleasure myself to this picture of her from her metal bikini photoshoot.
As we punch through the atmosphere and into space, I unzip my flight suit and start flogging my hog. OH yeah…I ain’t no Tattooine farm boy or scruffy looking nerf-herder…I’m a badass pilot. Damn shorty, I KNOW you’re turned on by my super-cool blast helmet…
The intercom crackles to life. “All wings report in.”
Goddammit! I pick up the pace, using every ounce of my latent Force abilities to block out my Wing Commander’s nerdy-ass voice. (I coulda been a Jedi, but they never get laid, so fuck that noise).
“Red 10, standing by.”
“Red 7, standing by.”
“Red 3, standing by.”
“Red 6, standing by.”
And so it goes. My fist starts pumping at breakneck speed. Gotta get in my pre-assault jack or I’m gonna be an ornery mess. Just have to finish before they call on me…
“Red Kent? Red Kent, report in.”
I’m busy, motherfucker! Gimme like two more minutes!
“Wing Commander this is Red 5, Pilot Skywalker, recommending that we court martial Red Kent as soon as we get back to base.”
Fucking NERD! What the FUCK!
Wing Commander: “Ah, duly noted, Red 5. But a court martial might be kind of extreme for a late check-in; maybe we’ll just—”
Skywalker: “Nonsense. We need to set the example by—”
I cut him off with: “YOU KISSED YOUR SISTER!”
There’s a long silence. Followed by: “…what did you say?”
Wing Commander: “Stop squabbling, you two. We’ll talk about this later, Red Kent. Lock S-foils in attack position.”
FUCK! I punch my dashboard and zip up my flight suit. My balls lurch and rumble, trembling in protest. “I’m sorry guys!” I gasp. “Just hold it until the end of this battle! I’ll take care of you as soon as—NYAAAAAHHH!!!”
Christ, it’s like someone poured an industrial-strength cement-mixer right into my nuts. Geez we get this done before my testicles bloat up and I’m sitting on ’em like a goddamn bean bag…
There’s no way I can hold it. So I open my eReader to Echo, activating its reality distortion powers. Magic flash.
Princess Leia appears in the back of my X-Wing. She meets my eyes in my co-pilot rearview and smiles coquettishly. “Hey…you’re Red Kent, aren’t you? All the ladies have been saying good things about your…” she leans over my seat, stares at my lap, then settles back in her chair. “…equipment.” Her smile grows wider.
“Just who I was hoping to see.” I flash her a grin.
“Help me Princess Leia—you’re my only hope.”
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