The Gunner

Vader must be on his period again, Tim Martins grumbled to himself. There's no other explanation for this. Why else would we be chasing some bullshit little Rebel Blockade Runner through the boondies? It's gotta be that Rebel-chasin' time of the month.

Tim had never liked his job as a Star Destroyer gunner. At the Imperial Academy, he had trained to be a TIE Fighter pilot, but on his first training mission, he'd backed his ship into Grand Moff Freidberg's shuttle, guaranteeing him a spot on one of the Starfleet's lower rungs. Before his deployment to his current Star Destroyer, he had also received an official reprimand for accusing his demotion as being a result of "Freidberg having his period."

His laser blasts continued to miss the runaway spaceship. Periods. Looli must have been on her period, the lying bitch...

On his recent return home for shore leave, Tim had found his wife Looli in bed, enjoying a post-coital cuddle with Mryxaptlk, the Wookiee milkman.

"What the FUCK?!" he'd screamed.

"You know what they say, Timmy," Looli said, rolling a fat Sullustan joint. "Once you go Wookiee, there's no other nookie. I mean, you never had much respect for me as a woman, did you?"

"What are you talking about, you stupid twat?"

She licked the rolling paper. "See what I mean?" she said, turning to Mrxaptlk.

He took a drag of his cigarette. "Rawrrawr," he replied.

Tim glared at his wife's hairy lover. "What, then? What's he got that I haven't got?"

"Grmph," Mryxaptlk grumbled. He pulled the covers down, revealing his crotch.

Timothy gulped. "Oh," he said.

"Sorry, Timothy," Looli said, lighting up the dank Sullustan herb. "Looks like you should just let the Wookiee win."

I always let the other guy win, he now thought, his absence of hits on the enemy ship uninterrupted. That's why I'm in this asswipe turbolaser turret gig in the first place. They could've at least put me on a Super Star Destroyer. Mom always said that I'm Super. Before that rancor bit her head off, anyway.

He turned to Ensign Piett. "Hey, Penis, what planet is that down there again?"

"Tatooine. Also, don't call me Penis, Timothy."

Wah wah wah. That Piett's got no sense of humor- always so high-strung, like he's going to be a Captain or an Admiral someday. Also, what kind of bullshit name is Tatooine? More planets should have sensible names, like back home on Zawikkkitron-Beta 12C.

A huge explosion erupted on the Blockade Runner's dorsal side. "Good shot, Piett!" Lieutenant Archibald rejoined. "You shut down their main reactor!"

Whoop dee doo, Timothy thought as the Star Destroyer reeled in the Blockade Runner with its tractor beam. I'm like a million times better at shooting than ol' Penis. I'm just off my game today cos of Looli and her hysterical girl nonsense. More people should listen to me. I've got opinio-

Three Rebel escape pods flew into sight, fleeing the captured ship in the Star Destroyer's cargo bay and making a desperate dash for the planet surface. "Oh, SHIT!" Timothy shouted, firing dozens of shots, none of which hit anything. "Dammit!" he whined. "Lieutenant, my scope's not working!"

Piett rolled his eyes, looked into his sights, and fired three shots, vaporizing all three pods. "Rebel scum," he said.

Tim's face soured. Ooh, there goes Mr. Fancypants again. Everybody here thinks they're so smart. Wait'll I tell them my transfer request to the Death Star went through. Won't they be jealous when I leave next week? They'll still be out here, and I'll be safe and sound aboard the ultimate weapon! Nobody can get me there!

Suddenly, a lone escape pod blasted its way into view. Tim gasped and brought his laser to bear. "There goes another one!"

"Hold your fire," the Lieutenant replied. "There aren't any life forms aboard. It must have short-circuited."

But Tim had a bad feeling about this one. He furrowed his brow, then looked through his cannon's scope, zooming all the way in. He scrutinized the pod, then recoiled in shock; through the pod's rear window, a protocol droid and an R2 unit were staring back at him! He whirled around. "But sir-"

"For Christ's sake, gunner, just relax," the exasperated Lieutenant admonished him. "What difference does it make if one measly escape pod gets away?"

Piett grinned and followed up on the Lieutenant's rebuff. "Yea, Timothy. What's gonna happen? Is the Death Star gonna blow up or something?"

"Yea!" the Lieutenant giggled, unable to resist joining in. "You'd better blow it up, Timmy, or else the entire Empire might fall!"

Piett and the Lieutenant exchanged a high-five, and all the turbolasers' crew laughed hysterically. Tim's face went red and he turned away. They always laugh at me, he fumed. Well, they'll see. One day I'll be right.