The Gungan Trouble: A STAR WARS Story
A squad of stormtroopers stand at port arms in the hangar bay of the Executor-class star destroyer. They face an imperial officer and the Emperor’s Emissary himself, Darth Vader.
“Lord Vader!” The officer salutes. “We’ve located the rebel base. Ten squads stand by, ready to deploy.”
“Good. Wipe the rebels out,” Vader commands. “But take the princess alive. She belongs to me.”
“Yes sir!”
“Remember, Lieutenant: the Emperor does not tolerate failure. Nor do I.”
“Yes sir!”
From the middle of the squad, a stormtrooper’s hand shoots up.
Vader glances at the hand, then back at the officer.
He flinches. “TK-421!” The officer barks. “Put your hand down!”
“But I have a question,” the stormtrooper says.
“TK-421! Disobeying a command is an act of insubordination. Punishable by death!”
The stormtrooper shrugs. “It’s just a question.”
The officer leans in, hissing: “Put. It. Down.”
Vader lifts a palm. “Let him speak.”
The officer whirls, pale white. “But sir—”
“The price of my displeasure is well known, Lieutenant. Let us hear why this man gambles not only his own life but every life in this unit.”
The officer gulps, sweat beading his worried brow.
TK-421 straightens up. “Lord Vader! Is it true there are Gungans in the rebel base?”
“We’ve received reports of deserters from the Gungan Grand Army embedded among the rebels,” Vader replies.“What of it?”
“Sir, I just wanted to ask…” TK-421 trails off, hesitant.
“Yes?”
“Can we rape the Gungan women?”
Vader stands motionless. The muffled drumbeat of imperial boots fills the hangar bay. Somewhere in the distance, a service droid beep-boops.
“…what?” The Sith Lord finally rasps.
The officer turns his head, cringing.
“I just wanted to know if we can get up in those Gungan guts. Sir.”
The officer clears his throat and lifts a quivering finger. “Lord Vader—”
The Sith Lord reaches out and clasps his black hand, force-snapping the stormtrooper’s neck. TK-421 drops to the floor, dead.
“Bantha’s balls,” the officer mutters.
Vader addresses the squad with barely veiled rage. “Does anyone else have a question?”
Another hand shoots up.
“TK-339!” the Officer yelps.
“What about the Gungan femboys?”
Vader stares at the grunt. “Gungan. Femboys.”
“Gungan bussy is the best bussy, sir.” TK-339 goes on. “I hear it’s airtight. You know, from all the hydrostatic pressure?”
Vader reaches out again. TK-339 crumbles.
“Is anyone else in this Force-forsaken unit looking for permission to noncon a frog?”
A wave of hands shoots up. The officer seizes his own collar, trying not to faint.
Vader lifts his hand to kill them all but notices a single stormtrooper in the back who has 𝘯𝘰𝘵 raised his hand.
“You. What is your name?”
The stormtrooper straightens. “TK-223, sir.”
“So you’re the only soldier in this unit with any sense of decency.”
“Actually sir,” the stormtrooper says. “I wanted to ask if it’s true that Jar Jar Binks got a seat in the Senate cause he was raking Senator Amidala’s reef wall.”
Hours later, Darth Vader steps into Emperor Palpatine’s chambers, soaked in blood.
“The raid on the rebel base is off,” he declares.
“My word, DeeVee,” Emperor Palpatine shifts on his throne.
“Re-scheduled for next week.”
“What happened to you?”
“I’ve been massacring stormtroopers for the last three hours.”
“Back to old habits?” Palpatine chuckles. “Hardly a productive use of your time. Or our men.”
“We need to institute sexual harassment training across every branch of the Imperial Armed Forces.”
“Now that’s a bit drastic…”
“Four hours mandatory,” Vader insists. “Every quarter!”
“Vader, big guy, what’s this all about?”
“Rapists!” Vader shouts. “Every last stormtrooper is a rapist!”
The Emperor shrugs. “So?”
Vader whirls. “You knew?!”
“Vader, come on. We serve the Dark Side of the Force.”
“Yes but—”
“What did you think that meant? Vibes? Papers?”
“Even so—”
“Essays?”
“It’s unconscionable!”
“Oh really.” The Emperor tilts his head. “The youngling slayer is going to lecture us on what’s conscionable.”
“That’s different,” Vader protests.
“I think if we can make room for a child murder, we can make room for a few rapists.”
“A few??”
“Okay, a few thousand.” Palpatine twirls his hand. “Hundred thousand.”
Vader recoils. “You’re serious.”
“The Force is all about balance,” Palpatine sing-songs.
“We can’t allow it.” Vader shakes his head. “We can’t permit our fighting forces to be driven by such base and vile instincts.”
Palpatine rolls his eyes.
Vader throws up his hands. “You don’t see me doing whatever I please, being led around by my dick!”
Palpatine leans back. “That’s because it was burned off on Mustafar.”
“Not the point!”