CHAPTER EIGHT
“Oh wow,” said Solo. “This was a great idea! I never could have come up with a plan this good!” They all stood in an indescribably grungy filthy stinky chamber waist-deep in waste. Space flies buzzed around them as they peered around at the tech trash, duct work, heaps of potato peelings, black bananas, cardboard boxes, taco wrappers, paper bags with vomit oozing out of them, fish bones, turkey carcasses, a half-eaten birthday cake, rebar, a stuffed teddy bear with one button-eye missing, tin cans, cigarette packages, great pools of unidentifiable sludge, and a human head with eyes wide open and wearing a maniacal smile.
“I figured you’d feel right at home here,” said Louise.
“TouchĆ©,” said Solo. Chewie found an access hatch with a red light shining above it and eagerly yanked and hammered on the thing to know avail. He howled in dismay.
“How do we get out of here now?” said Fluke.
“Well, they need to get rid of the garbage somehow,” said Louise.
“You don’t think they just void it into space,” said Solo. “Do you?”
“Ruh roh,’ said Chewie.
Fluke and Louise eyed one another nervously. “That sounds like exactly the sort of thing these fucking imperialists would do,” said Louise.
“Imperialist pigs,” spat Fluke.
Suddenly there were a series of loud clicks and clunks echoing though the metal chamber. The foursome stared at one another wide-eyed. “I think we’re about to find out what imperialists do with their garbage,” said Solo.
“Look!” cried Fluke. The light above the hatch had turned from red to green.
“Try it now Chewie!” cried Solo. The beast lunged for the metal door as the light turned from green back to red. He banged at the unmoving door and issued a yawning howl. “Fuck a duck!” cried Solo. “Could you be any slower?” Now the mother of all clangs rang in their ears, and the walls; the great metal walls, began to move; began closing in toward one another.
“Ruck a ruck!” cried Chewingtobacca
“Great work, princess,” said Solo. This is the kind of death I’ve been hoping for all my life. Thanks for making it happen.
“Believe me, you’re welcome,” said Louise. “I just feel bad about your two friends. They probably had something to live for.”
“Bitch,” said Solo.
“Pecker head,” said Louise.
“Stuck-up white-bread snot.”
“Low life bottom feeder.”
“Hey,” yelped Fluke. “I hate to direct your creative juices away from your name-calling efforts but uh - maybe we should try to figure out a way out of here! Do you think!”
“It’s a trash compactor, kiddo,” said Solo. “We’re done for.”
“It’s no use,” said Louise.
“Thanks Sugar,” said Solo. “Thanks for clarifying In case he didn’t hear me the first time.”
“Shut up, you misogynist pea-brained troglodyte.”
“Mmm, I like it when you talk dirty, Princess.”
“Oh yeah? Try this for dirty.” She grabbed a handful of muck and threw it straight into Hand Solo’s face.
“Whoa,” said Solo, brown-faced and squinting through one eye. “Now you’re talking. If we’re gonna go out it might as well be with a bang!” He swiftly unsnapped his holster and his fly and began wading toward Louise who yelped in alarm, tried to back-pedal and then screamed as Solo fell upon her while the walls drew inexorably closer.
“To hell with them,” said Fluke. “Let’s find a way out of here Chewie.” The beast howled in what Fluke assumed was agreement. “Oh!” Fluke gasped. “RBC can save us!” He tore at his ill-fitting stormpooper armor and finally whipped out a tricorder device from his leotard pocket. And immediately he juggled it and dropped it in the sludge. “Aghhhhhh! GODDAMMIT!” He began madly fishing around in the great stinking stew as it became more and more compressed by the closing walls. Chewingtobacca roared and threw Fluke aside and began tearing at the rubbage himself, flinging aside pipes and bricks and soiled clothes; muck flying everywhere. An errant brick came down on Hand Solo’s hand as he feverishly attempted to mount a screaming Princess Louise. He screamed himself suddenly and fell aside of her, grabbing his bleeding wounded hand in his other.
“No!” Hand cried in anguish. “Not my favourite hand!”
MEANWHILE JUST A FEW FEET AWAY… Fluke spied a small metallic object flying up into the air above Chewie’s head and he saw that it was emitting a flashing light. He leapt to grab it, elbowing the wookie in the face in the process.
Louise had drawn herself to her feet and saw that this was her chance as her attacker slumped on his shoulder, holding his injured hand. She grabbed up a large heavy pole and raised it mightily into the air, eyeing Solo’s head with feverish revenge on her mind. Self defence, she told herself. I’ll brain the fucker…
Fluke closed his hand around the little tricorder as it bobbed in the air. Simultaneously the offended wookie grabbed the boy who had so rudely back-armed him in the face, and he tossed the boy aside. Fluke crashed into Louise who dropped the lead pipe at once and they both landed on Solo. The three splashed into the grunge pool, sinking below the surface, and Chewingtobacca stood there feeling suddenly lonely.
Fluke came up for air first as the walls were now only two space yards apart. He brought the tricorder up to his sludge-smeared mouth. “Come in RB! Come in!”
“Master Fluke!” came CIBC’s panicked voice from the gadget. “RBC and I are locked in a control closet and Princess Louise is missing!”
“Shut up and listen to me!” cried Fluke. “Louise is with us but we’re all going to die unless RB shuts down the trash compactor on the detention level! Is he still logged in to their wi-fi!”
“No he’s not!” cried CIBC
“God damn fuck it god fuck a fucking god dammit we are going to fucking die you god dammit stupid mechanical piece of shit!” Fluke screamed. “I don’t want to die this way!”
“He’s hard-wired in,” stated CIBC.
“What! Oh! Oh well great then! have him shut down the trash compactor on the detention level immediately! Hurry up! Now now now! we are being crushed to death!”
“Hmm,” said CIBC. “I’ll think about it. I’m not sure I appreciated your attitude toward me just now.”
“Oh my god I’m so sorry please oh please we’ll talk about this! I will buy you crumpets for life; I promise! But you gotta save us RIGHT NOW!”
“Oh, I’m just kidding Master Fluke. He’s working on it right now. But there’s a lot of trash compactors on this Bowling Ball. He’s having trouble isolating-”
“AAGGGGGGHHH!” screamed Master Fluke. “I’M BEING SQUISHED!”
“Oh my Gord RB!” cried CIBC. “Just shut them ALL down!”
The walls halted at once.
Chewie and Fluke whooped and howled in delight. They were saved.
“Oh good. They’re dying!” said CIBC… “Just kidding!!”
MEANWHILE IN THE VISITOR ORIENTATION CENTRE…
“So,” came the deep deep breathy voice from behind Opie Wan Kablooey. The Jade Eye knight halted in his path and turned around to see the Dark Gaydar standing fifteen feet away. “Opie Wan Kablooey. We meet again.”
“It has been a long long time Gaydar. Not since you foolishly and cowardly turned away to the dark side have I seen your mangy artificial poodle face.”
“Chihuahua actually. And now the student has become the master.”
“Master, my arse.” spat old Ben.
“I just might do that, bitch.”
“Nice fanny pack,’ said Ben. “Who’s the bitch?”
Gaydar yanked out his laser sword and flashed it about giving out a medley of gruesome warbling sounds.
“If you take me down I will only rise again but taller,” said Opie Wan.
“That’s what she said.”
“What?” said Ben. “That doesn’t make any sense. That’s not funny at all. Are you stupid?”
Enraged, Gaydar sprung forward, light sabre flashing and garbling.”
“Opie go night night!” said Ben mystically. Gaydar’s sabre hit him and the tweed robes fell emptily to the floor.
“What the-” cried Gaydar. “Goddam voodoo!” He kicked at the formless robes and found no Ben Kablooey. “Fucker!” He then spotted a small hairy insect scuttling along the slick imperial floor. “Ah ha!” cried Gaydar. “Turned into a spider did you!” Gaydar chased the spider down the hall.
Of course boys and girls, what Gaydar did not know… was that Opie Wan Ben Kablooey had never really been in the visitor centre at all!
CHAPTER NINE
“And then he caught up to the spider!” said Opie Wan Kablooey, his upper lip dusted with white powder. “And he stomped up and down on the poor thing for twenty space minutes yelling Take that Opie Wan! Take that you fucking goodie two shoes!” Everyone laughed at old Ben’s tale: Fluke and Princess Louise and Hand Solo and his woolly wookie and Admiral Fish Sticks with the giant fishy face and everyone dipped their straws into the mountain of cocaine which RBC had provided and they snorted with glee.
“Well, little RBC,” said Admiral Fish Sticks drunkenly, “Thanks for the smack and the plans! I better get to work finding the bowling ball’s Achilles heel bone so we can blow it to smithereens. Give me a minute, fellas.”
ONE MINUTE LATER… in the presentation lounge the gang was all there along with a bevy of space pilots in orange jump suits. All of them had escaped from one of the imperial prisons far away in a place called Kingston, Ontario on a funny little planet called Dirtsand, or "Earth" by the Dirtsandian inhabitants. Also present were a variety of important rebel strategists including, most prominently, El Toro the bull-headed man and Catmandoo the cat-headed woman.
Admiral Fish Sticks drew everyone’s attention to the giant whiteboard where an image of a Great Bowling Ball architectural drawing was projected. Fish Sticks turned on his laser pointer and pinned his red dot on the whiteboard. Catmandoo, at the sight of this magical red prey nearly peed herself with excitement but she managed to contain herself and hold still.
“This is going to be simple ladies and gentleman,” said the Admiral. “Note the three giant holes on the surface of the behemoth. This bottom one is the pie hole. This is where all of the pie fighters will launch from the moment they see us coming.” He clicked his clicker and the drawing changed to one focused on the rear of the craft. Now there is actually one more hole on the surface but it is so much smaller than the others. indeed we might surmise that a core purpose of the two major holes on the high side is to create a distraction. Watch as I zoom in. Now here is the tiny hole that concerns us. It is the Poop Chute. It is from here that messages and instructions to the entire galactic stormpooper force is broadcasted. And this is their great weakness. If we can insert a Trojan Pellet right up the Poop Chute, we can not only disrupt the galactic broadcast but we can turn the Great Ball into a Great Ball of Fire!
“Goodness gracious! A great ball of fire!” exclaimed the orange-suited pilot Captain Kentucky Detox.
“Oh my stars!” exclaimed CIBC.
“That’ll frost their tallywhackers,” said Captain Frisco Kibblebits.
“Oh it’ll blow them clean off,” clarified Admiral Fish Sticks
“I stand corrected,” said Kibblebits.
“Every fighter ship is being equipped with a properly programmed and lubricated Trojan Pellet as we speak. Make no mistake: this will be a highly dangerous undertaking and many of you may not make it back alive. But all it takes is one successful pellet plant and victory is assured. The moment a successful insertion has been announced we will all pull out and withdraw. As we speak all your targeting systems are being re-purposed for this insertion task. This means that any dogfighting or any laser fire will be manual!”
“No problemo,” said Captain Hotdog Diggity. ‘I can shoot down an entire squadron of pie fighters in half the time a computer can.”
“You can shoot a lot of baloney out your bumhole is more like it,” quipped Captain Ace Fantasmo. “I can’t even do that and I’ve beaten you at every pie fight simulation ever designed.”
Captain Diggity sneered as everyone else laughed. “Maybe I’ve been letting you win, Fatso.”
“Okay, enough of that,” said Fish Sticks. “Any questions about this plan?”
“Do the imperials know about their poop chute?”
“You mean, from a hole in the ground? Hahahah!” Fish Sticks slapped his knee. “But seriously: they likely have not realized the extent of their exposure but they likely do know that the chute should be protected. What we hope they don’t know, is just how dedicated we are to getting into it. And I believe it likely that they do not. When we attack we will send the bulk of our forces directly at their pie hole, as if defeating their fighter fleet is our main goal. Some of you will approach quietly from their rear but feigning a flank attack. Then we’ll divert at the last moment. Furthermore any frontal attacker drawing a pie fighter pursuer will divert toward the rear chute as if trying to lose the pursuer, which would be a great idea either way. Once the gig is up, then all of our forces will abandon the frontal faƧade and blitz the poop chute.” Heads nodded around the room. “Are we clear?”
The consensus was affirmative. “Okay. Prepare for battle. And remember: let’s be careful out there.”
MEANWHILE IN A NON-MILITARY HANGAR… The recently accredited Captain Solo was directing Chewingtobacca the wookie of the year which cargo to load onto the Aluminum Fulcrum when a certain princess approached him from behind and grabbed his ass.
“Whoa!” he said, spinning around. “Louise! You’ve come to kiss me goodbye!” She reared back and slapped him hard in the face. A red hand print began to appear on his cheek. “Oh Sugar, you know I love it when you get rough!”
“How the blazes can you leave at a time like this!”
“Well… I can’t really screw you. I pulled one off a couple or six times already this morning. I’m sore. They have amazing porn here! Have you seen it?” She slapped him again. “Ow! Damn, girl!” Didn't you hear me? I can’t perform now! Don’t even try to get me excited!”
“How can you leave when the rebels need you!”
“Huh? For what?”
“For the fight, dammit! You’re a good pilot! We need all the good pilots we can get! Don’t you ever care about anything but yourself and your rewards!”
“No. Of course not. What a stupid question. Jeez. It’s a good thing you’re cute ‘cause you’re not very bright.”
Louise shook her head disgustedly. “You’re the champion slime ball of the galaxy.”
“Thanks Sugar. ‘Til next time then! All aboard Chewie!”
To be concluded tomorrow! (if you can stand it…)
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