I wish I had been born long, long ago in a galaxy far, far away, because I would have been the best Imperial stormtrooper ever. I would have made many innovations in stormtrooper tactics. I would have noticed that even though we stormtroopers were wearing bulky armor, we still died instantly when shot in the ankle by rebel blasters. So I would have changed into comfortable shorts and a Carmelo Anthony Nuggets jersey so as to distract rebel troops with arguments about the rightful winner of last year's NBA Rookie of the Year Award. While the rebels were shouting about LeBron James' excellence in the face of poor team support, I would shoot them in the chest.

All the other stormtroopers would hate me for being the best stormtrooper ever. They would get sick of gritting their teeth while our stormtrooper supervisors yelled, "Why can't you be more like Stormtrooper Trout?" So I would organize square dances and potluck lunches. Darth Vader would make a Jell-O ring in a Bundt mold with suspended grapes and pineapple chunks, and Emperor Palpatine would bring his famous cheese-n-bacon potato Crock-Pot casserole. And then everyone would like me.

I would explain to the other stormtroopers that homosexual activity is wrong, even if there are no women on the Death Star and even with all those hot guys walking around in their pseudo-Nazi uniforms and shiny leather boots. "I know it's tempting," I would admonish them gently, "but sucking Grand Moff Tarkin's cock in the maintenance closet behind the TIE fighter docking bay makes baby Jesus cry, even if he -- Grand Moff Tarkin, not baby Jesus -- holds you and strokes your hair afterward."

I would show the other stormtroopers the best way to kill rebels. "The laser beam emitted by this rifle travels at over 186,000 miles per second," I would say. "Even if your target is 500 feet away, the laser blast will get there in 0.0000005 seconds, so you don't need to lead him or fire wildly from your hip. Just sight down the barrel and squeeze the trigger when someone crosses your path. And for chrissake if you see Han Solo, just shoot him. Don't tackle him from behind or say 'Hold it right there!' or freeze him in carbonite. Just shoot the bastard."

After punching out from my stormtrooper duties for the day, I would put on my tool belt and go help the construction crew finish building the Death Star. "Looks like you guys could use a hand here!" I would say, and then I would pound nails into two-by-fours or run electrical wire or whatever for a few hours. I would make double-sure to put up some chicken wire over that shaft where Darth Vader threw the Emperor into the reactor core, because that's dangerous, having that open like that! All the construction workers would offer to buy me beers and would want to be my friend.

+posted by Lawrence @ 7/02/2004 12:24:00 PM