Trollheart

I had a weird thought just now. What if someone were to rewrite Star Wars with absolutely no violence, battles, wars, deaths of any kind? A pacifist Star Wars, with “nice” characters? Crazy, right? Couldn't be done. Well, guess who’s going to try it? I’ll be rewriting and posting the whole movie, and who knows, maybe the other two as well. But we’ll start off with the first one. Will it be difficult? Damn right. Will it be impossible? Maybe. Will it be a lot of work? Does the Pope shit in the woods? But will it be a whole lot of fun? I’d be willing to bet my year’s salary, if I got paid. Which I don’t. Well, not really. But yeah, I think it will be a lot of fun. Should be fun to read, too.

It will be fun to read. You will make it your business to be fun to read, do I make myself clear? Otherwise you will be on the business end of a large shotgun - what? No it’s not a super soaker: it’s a real shotgu - ah fuck! Well, you know, you’ll make it your business to enjoy it unless you want a damn good soak - sigh.

Just roll the credits before this gets any more embarrassing than it already is.

(I can't do the whole credits-rolling-up-the-screen-and-getting-smaller-as-they-go deal, so use your imagination).

It is not a period of civil war. Rebel spaceships, striking from a hidden base, have been parked up for months waiting for a check-up but the man says he’s coming and then he doesn’t come, you know how it is: you stay in, watching out the window, thinking this is his van, but it goes past, and then the next one looks like it might be him, but again it isn’t. Eventually you think sod it, he’s not coming this late, I’ll go out. You get back and there’s a fucking note pinned to your door saying he came but nobody was there.

Pursued by the Empire’s very reasonable and pleasant agents, Princess Say-Yeah races home aboard her starship, custodian of plans which are so secret nobody knows what they are, not even her, but they must be secret as the Secret Rebel Council said they were, and they should know. They’re so secret it’s possible they don’t even exist, and that box the princess has been given might be empty for all she knows. Which she doesn’t need to. She’s basically a glorified delivery girl. Such opportunities for the strong, independent woman in this brave new galaxy of yours, George.

Scene one: ext - space:

We open on the sight of a small spacecraft being pursued by a much, much larger one. The larger one transits across the screen, taking about ten seconds to fully pass over. A tractor beam locks on to the other craft. The farmer shakes his fist and says tractors should not be used in this way, and how did he get into space anyway? Who will milk his cows now? On board the other ship, the smaller one, crew members run around while two robots - well, one robot and one barrel on wheels - travel down one of the corridors.

Robot one (he’s the gold one that at least looks humanoid): “Did you hear that? They haven’t shut down the main reactor! We'll be perfectly fine. This is jolly!”

The other one, the barrel on wheels, who has, for some reason, an unreasonably large chest projection, responds with a series of clicks and beeps.

Robot one again: “We’re in no danger at all. The Princess will probably be fine.”

More beeps from the barrel.

A party of white-armoured troopers leave the large ship and board the smaller one. There are raised voices, a few harsh words, a few tears from the crew of the smaller ship at being spoken to so meanly; the white troopers apologise for their rudeness, then stop as, through the darkness, engendered because electricity hurts the galaxy, and so only candles are used here, a tall gaunt figure strides. The soldiers bow before him. His heavy breathing is heard throughout the corridor.

Cut to a scene of the barrel being fed some sort of card by an unseen hand, then the golden robot rushes in, snapping angrily. Having reattached the limbs that snapped, he continues to look for the big-chested barrel (barrel-chested? Ho ho!)

Golden robot: “R2DD, where are you?”

Out of his sight, we see the big-chested barrel robot with a woman, who looks around and vanishes as the other robot approaches.

Golden robot: “At last! Where have you been? They’re heading in this direction! We’re in absolutely no danger. Wait a minute!” He watches R2DD (it’s pronounced orr-too-double-dee) head off. “Where are you going?” The other robot does not answer and the golden one follows him, irritated.

Back with the guy with the black helmet, he’s sitting having a cup of tea with one of the crew of the smaller vessel.
Trooper: “The plans are not on in the main computer.”
Guy in Black Helmet: “Where are those transmissions you intercepted. What have you done with those plans?”
Crewmember: “Just ask the Princess, guy.”
Guy in Black Helmet: “Cool. Thanks. Excellent tea, by the way.”
Crewmember: “Thanks. It’s my mother’s recipe.”
Guy in Black Helmet: “You can tell her from me, she makes the best tea in the galaxy. And I know my tea!”
Crewmember: “I’ll tell her that.”
Guy in Black Helmet: “The Princess?”
Crewmember: “Two corridors that way, take a left at the soda machine, past the observation deck. Can’t miss it.”
Guy in Black Helmet: “Thanks dude. Laters.”

The two robots are now headed to the escape pods, to the great consternation of the golden one.
Golden robot: “Hey! Where are you going? We’re not allowed in there? What? I wish I knew what the fuck you were saying, guy! Are you even saying anything? Did I pick up the word mission? Did you say mission, or did I just imagine that by somehow interpreting your mindless clicks and beeps and making them sound like something? And if you did say mission, by the way, what mission? And why the fuck am I talking to myself?? Oh all right, I guess we’re due a road trip. Move your fat arse out of the way, I like to stretch my legs. Oh yeah, it’s great to have legs. Yeah I know you’ve got a big chest, so what? Ah hell. I bet I regret this.”

Pod launches. Crewmembers from the big ship are looking into each other’s eyes, and fail to see it tumble by.
Crewman 1: “Did you see something just now?”
Crewman 2 (smiling): “All I see is your deep dreamy blue eyes.”
Crewman 1: “Oh, you!”
Crewman 3: “Hey guys, we doing this or what?”

Black Helmet Guy moves into a chamber, where a young woman is cowering. The cow refuses the ring, and stalks off. The girl looks up.

Girl: “Wader! I should have recognised your foul stench!”
Darth Wader (looking down at the boots from which he takes his name): “Yes, sorry about that, Princess Say-Yeah. I may have stepped in something on the way in.” (Frowns, looks around) “You don’t have a cow on board, by any chance?”
Princess Say-Yeah: “If I had - and I’m not saying I have - you’d be the last one I’d tell, Lord Wader!”
Wader: “Oh come now, Princess! Such formality! Call me William.”
Say-Yeah (a slight grin breaking out on her features, sound of quickly-restrained titters behind Wader): “William? Billy? Willy? Willy Wader?”
Loud guffaws, quickly cut off again. Stormtroopers look at each other, look around, whistle innocently. Vader may scowl, or frown. Hard to say, as his head is encased in a huge black metal helmet.
“Hmm.” He considers. “On second thoughts, call me Darth. Now, about these plans, Your Highness.”
Princess Say-Yeah: “I don’t know of any plans, Wil - ah, Lord Wader.”
Wader (shaking head): “Oh now Princess.” Wags finger in black glove with tasteful sparkle design sewn into it. “You know of them all right. Transmissions were beamed to this ship by the Rebel Alliance.”
Princess Say-Yeah: “I don’t know what you mean, Wader. Rebel Alliance? What’s that?”
Wader: “Don’t play cute with me, Princess - though you are cute, I must admit. How DO you get your hair to hold that shape? It’s quite wonderful.”
Princess: “Well I have this guy and - never mind that!” Glares at Wader. “You were talking about some rebels, of which I know nothing, nor indeed plans. Or transmissions. Well, I know about the transmission on my Landspeeder back home, but that’s about it.”
Wader: “The Empire is quite aware of these rebels, Your Highness, and so are you. You are in fact believed to be part of their alliance.”
Princess: “Uh, what? Alliance? You got the wrong princess, dude."
Wader (leaning in close): “Princess…”
Princess Say-Yeah: “Do you mind? That breathing!”
Wader (leaning back): “Sorry, sorry, I do apologise. Asthma, you know. Had it since I was a boy.”
Princess: “Very annoying.”
Wader: “Yes, I understand.”
Princess; “Creepy, too, if I’m honest.”
Wader (sighing): “You are not the first to say so, believe me. But to business. Where are those plans?”
Princess: “Search me.”
Wader: “Troopers!”
Princess: “What? No I didn’t mean - oh for the love of the great galactic - it’s a phrase, you dimwit! I don’t have the damn things on me!”
Wader: “So.” (Waving the - disappointed - troopers back) “You DO know about the plans.” Looks deeply at Say-Yeah, whose eyes go all glassy.
Say-Yeah: “Don’t you try those Force tricks on me, Lord Wader!”
Wader (in a mysterious voice): “May the Force be with you.”
Princess (in automatic, deadpan voice): “And also with you. How may I be of assistance?”
Wader: “You can tell me where the plans are.”
Princess (shaking off the effect): “No.”
Wader: “Oh please!”
Princess: “No.”
Wader: “I’ll be your friend.”
Princess: “No.”
Wader (petulantly): “Oh, you’re mean! All right then, the Force it is. Where are those plans?”
Princess (under the spell again): “I gave them to the robot.”
Wader: “Robot?”
Princess: “R2DD.”
Wader: “The one with the huge (makes gesture)?”
Princess: “That’s the one.”
Wader: “And where is it now, this big-chested robot?”
Princess: “Search me.” Troopers move forward again. “Holy - what is it with you guys? Get a hobby, why don’t you? I mean, Lord Wader, I don’t know. For all I know, they could be on this planet we’re orbit - oops! Bloody Force! Stop that, will you?”
Wader: “Thanks Princess.” To troopers: “Get ready boys, we’re heading down to that planet.”
Troopers: “Yay! Field trip!”
Wader: “And go before we leave. I don’t want to hear anyone moaning about having to go in the fucking desert, all right? We’re going down there to retrieve those plans, not to destroy their fragile ecosystem. Right, pack a bag - ONE bag, Trooper Bring-Everything! - and meet me back here in an hour. After you’ve had your dinner of course. And a nap. Look, let’s say two hours. Hmm, by then it will be dark. Tell you what, we’ll set off at first light. Well, tennish. Eleven tops. Okay, let’s make it midday. Everyone good with that? Right, get some sleep: I don’t want sleepy troopers stumbling across an alien desert. And remember, guys, deserts aren’t always dead, so watch where you put those big white metal size twelves! Dismissed!”

__________________
Trollheart: Signature-free since April 2018

Trollheart

Note: Keeping violence entirely out of this makes it what we writers term a pain in the arse, so I’m going to allow some, just as little as possible. Rest assured, Alderaan will still get blown up. Nobody liked that planet anyway.

Chapter II: Troubled Teenager on Tattooine Seeks Crazy Old Man for Mutual Appreciation of the Force

Scene: Desert of planet Tattooine, or possibly a quarry in South Yorkshire. Marching stormtroopers, white armour shining in the brilliant light of two suns.

Stormtrooper 1: “Typical! He’s already changing the rules! Bloody writers!”
Stormtrooper 2: “You’d think he’d have planned the fucking thing out before hand, wouldn’t you?”
Stormtrooper 1: “I think this tit is making it as he goes along.”
Stormtrooper 2: “He certainly thinks he’s clever with the old alliteration, dun nee?”
Stormtrooper 1: “Ah who cares about him? We’re gettin’ paid, ain’t we?”
Stormtrooper 2: “True, that. All right then, you ready?”
Stormtrooper 1: “Ready.”
Both: “I DON’T KNOW BUT -”
Wader: “Right! I’m warning you bastards for the last time! The next cunt who shouts “I don’t know but I believe” is going to get my big black leather boot right up his ahhh here we are. Wipe your boots, men. We’re guests here.”

Scene: int. Johnnywalker Ranch. About fifty stormtroopers desperately trying to cram themselves into chairs, sofas, futons, onto ride-on Tusken Raiders, anywhere they can. Boots of one are up in the face of another, things are crowded. Wader does not seem to notice, or care.

Aunt Baru: “So nice of you to come out all this way, Anakin. Luke will be pleased when he gets back.”
Wader: “Baru, I’ve told you before! Ixnay on the Nakinanay. It’s Darth now. Darth Wader.”
Uncle Owen: “Don’t you think Vader scans better though?”
Sound of stormtroopers arguing in low voices over who should have the last Digestive biscuit. One practical joker busily tying the bootlaces of two others together.
Wader: “Oh yeah that would be a great name wouldn’t it? Don’t you know Vader is German for father?”
Owen: “What’s German?”
Wader: “I think it means it pertains to the issue. Look, I didn’t write this shit. Blame him.” Points up. Owen looks, squints, can’t see anything, shrugs. “Anyway, I told you that kid is not to know I’m his dad.”
Baru: “But why, Anak - ah, Dart?”
Wader: “Darth. Dar-th. With a th sound. Like Earth.”
Owen: “What’s Earth?”
Wader: “How on Mars should I know?”
Owen: “What’s Mars?”
Wader (irritated): “Look, never mind. Just - just shut the fuck up, Owen, all right? I know you only married my sister for her farm.”
Owen (under breath): “Well it wasn’t for her prowess in bed, that’s for sure!”
Baru (sharply): “What’s that?”
Owen (sheepishly): “Nothing, nothing. I’ll just - I’ll just take this sheep out of the living room, shall I? Leave a bit more room for all these nice raintrooopers.”
Stormtroopers (chorusing): “STORM troopers!”
Owen: “”. As he has already headed outside.
Baru: “What a stupid prick. Only married me because I bought the farm.”
Wader (surprised): “You… you died?”
Baru: “No. No, you fool, it’s just an expression. Honestly! How could I be dead and still talking to you?”
Wader (desperately trying to think): “Um, well, you could be, you know, one of them things they do now - deep space?”
Stormtrooper (looking up from Arms and Armour): “Uh, I think you mean deep fake, Lord Vader.”
Wader (glaring at him): “That’s what I said.” Back to Baru. “You could be one of them. A Deep Flake.”
Baru: “How did you ever get to be Lord of the Skit, Willy?”
Wader (huffily): “That’s Darth. Or Lord Wader, to you.”
Baru: “Pish and posh! You’ll always be the snotty little kid in short pants who the other kids laughed at because of your asthma. And don’t forget who stood up for you.”
Wader: “You always joined in!”
Baru: “I didn’t mean me. Don’t you remember old Ben?”
Wader: “Gentle Ben Ken-ya-be? The Scottish lad? Thought he was dead.”
Baru (folding arms, glaring at stormtrooper who has spilled tea on her favourite table mat): “Yeah, you know, you could be right, Willy. That could have been one of them, what did you call them, Deep Snakes? Probably one of them I saw when he called a few hours ago to take Luke to the gig.”
Wader (moodily): “Deep Flake.”
Stormtrooper (destined for latrine duty for a year): “Deep Fake, Lord Wader.”
Wader (catching up): “Wait a minute! What in the name of George Lucas did you say? Ken-ya-Be was here?”
Baru (sarcastically): “Try to keep up, Willy. I know you were slow at school but… Hey! Who's George Lucas?”
Wader (ignoring her question): “You know, I could have this whole farm burned down.”
Stormtroopers exchange that sort of look that says Oh no! We have to work?
Baru: “Yeah yeah. I told you, your big-ass title doesn’t impress me, Willy.”
Wader: “What? I - I don’t have a big ass!” (Looking at nearest stormtrooper) “Do I?”
Stormtrooper, pausing with ladyfinger half to mouth): “Uh, no, Your Skitship.”
Wader: “But then, you’re a yes man, aren’t you?”
Stormtrooper: “Yes, Lord Wader.”
Wader: “Dammit! Where do I find unbiased comment in this fucking place?”
Owen (coming back in): “I think it looks just fine in those… tight… leather… pants.”
Wader (in distaste): “Always knew you were a queer, Owen.”
Baru (rolling eyes): “Yeah, that explains a lot. Like how we have no kids of our own and had to adopt Luke to satisfy my maternal instincts!”
Wader: “And to keep him safe.”
Baru (shrugging): “Whatever.”
Owen (sidling up): “You know, you and me, Lord Wader, we could make beautiful music together.”
Baru (whispering): “You know, Willy, this farm has been a millstone around my neck for years. If someone were to, well, burn it to the ground… Well, all I’m saying is I have it well insured, is all.”
Wader: “And I suppose your Owen might tragically not make it out, huh?”
Baru: “I’d be devastated of course. But you see, Ben tells me he can get me a gig with the Tuskens. They pay good money.”
Wader (considering for a long time): “Nah, better not. In this galaxy of Peace and Brotherhood, such actions are frowned upon by the Empire. And besides, the paperwork’s a bitch. So you say Ben took Luke to a gig?”
Baru (looking somewhat disappointed and darting a venomous gaze at Owen): “Yeah, he took him out to The Cavern. Luke always wanted to see the Tuskens, but he could never get on the guest list. Ben knows people.”
Wader (rising): “Right then, I guess we had better be motoring. Thanks for the tea and biscuits,
Wader: “Whatever. Come on guys. We’re goin’ to the pub!” (Cheers) “To capture Luke and Ben.” (Groans) “And the first round is on me!” (Cheers) “So no doubles, triples or buying for your mates.” (Groans)
Baru (snappily): “Ah, I always knew you didn’t have it in ya, little bruv! No wonder the other kids beat you up!”
Wader (turning back): “You know what? This desert is very dry, and the slightest spark - like, I don’t know, maybe from a blaster - whole thing would go up like a tinderbox.”
Baru: “What’s a tinderbox?”
Wader (shrugging): “How the hell should I know? He’s writing this crap. Anyway, come with me into this room and we’ll discuss it.”
Exit Wader and Baru, Owen watching Wader’s retreating ass. Stormtroopers begin stuffing their pockets with valuables.
Stormtrooper 1 (stuffing statuette into pouch: “You know he had a son?”
Stormtrooper 2 (removing painting from wall): “Honestly, with all that black leather he’s always wearing, I always took him for a puff.”
Stromtrooper 3 (gouging stones out of wall): “You think he’s serious about buying the drinks?”
Stormtrooper 2: “Nah. He always says that, but when he gets to the bar it’s oh sorry guys, left my wallet in my other pants.”
Stormtrooper 3: “You mean the ones with the - ?”
Stormtrooper 2: “Yup.”
Stormtrooper 3: “Without the - ?”
Stormtrooper 2: “Uh-huh.”
Stormtrooper 1: “How come he always leaves his wallet in those ones?”
Stormtrooper 2: “Cause there’s a limit to what the emperor will allow even a Dark Lord of the Skit to wear. Gotta have some standards around here. Can’t have his top man going around with his ass hanging out of - “
Stormtrooper 3: “Watch out! Here he comes!”
Wader returns, alone. Sound of a muffled voice, banging.
Wader: “That’ll teach her to force me to dress in girls’ clothes till age fourteen! Wanted a sister, indeed!” (Louder) “Okay men, what do we say when the insurance agent comes nosing around afterwards?”
Stormtroopers in chorus: “We didn’t start the fire, it was always burning…”
Wader: “Sweet.”

Scene: ext, desert.
The wind has hollowed out the sand for about two miles around into a huge depression, around which thousands of people crowd. In the centre of the depression a bunch of Tusken raiders are dancing and singing.
Tusken 1: “Why don't you ask him if he's going to stay?
Why don't you ask him if he's going away?”
Tusken 2: “Why don't you tell me what's going on?
Why don't you tell me who's on the phone?”
Tusken 3: Why don't you ask him what's going wrong?
Why don't you ask him the latest on his throne?
Tusken chorus (left): “Don’t say that you love me!”
Tusken chorus (right): “Just tell me that you want me!”
Tusken chorus: “TUSK!”

Ben Ken-Ya-Be (looking up): “Are you fucking serious? All this for that one clumsy set up? It’s not even a joke! It doesn’t make sense! What’s wrong with you?”
Luke Johnnywalker: “Who are you talking to, Uncle Ben?”
Ben: “I told you not to call me that, kid!”
Luke: “Oh. Didn’t you get the fried rice franchise then?”
Ben (moodily): “No. In these days of PC-correctness and affirmative fucking action, they gave it to some nig - GO GUYS, GO! Sandpeople rule!” (Turning back to Luke) “I love this band.”
Luke (clapping as the drummers let loose): “What should I call you then?”
Ben: “In my younger days they called me Oh Baldy One…”
Luke (Ben’s voice drowned out by the music and the clapping of the crowd): “What?”
Ben: “Nothing. Call me General.”
Luke: “Are you a general?”
Ben (testily): “Did you invent whisky? Don’t ask stupid questions, kid!”
Tusken chorus: “TUSK! TUSK!”
Luke: “What's whisky?" (No answer so) "So who were you talking to, um, General?”
Ben: “What?”
Luke: “Just now. When you looked up into the sky. You were talking to someone.”
Ben: “Yeah. Our lord and master. Can’t you see him up there, grinning like an idiot?”
Luke: “No. Can’t see nothing.”
Ben: “Anything.”
Luke: “What?”
Ben: “It’s can’t see anything. Don’t use double negatives, kid. It’s not a good look.”
Luke: “What? I don’t use no double negatives.” Pause, face screwed up in thought. “Whatever that is.”
Ben: “Right, of course. I forgot. You’re a teenager. Teenagers can’t imagine anyone controlling their destiny. Think they run the world and nobody can do it better.”
Luke: “Huh. Nobody controls my destiny.”
Ben: “Sure kid, sure AH FUCK IT! What idiot did that?”
A flare is launched from the crowd. The Tuskens scatter in panic. Boos ring out.
Luke: “Aw.”
Ben: “Don’t worry kid. Sandpeople scare easily, but they’ll be back, and in greater numbers.”
Luke: “Like what?”
Ben: “You have to hear their version of "Freebird". Classic. They do a decent "Johnny B Goode" too.”

In the sudden lull, Luke notices a plume of smoke drifting on the desert air.
Luke: “Unc - I mean, General! What’s that? It’s - it seems to be coming from the farm!”
Ben: “Oh fuck!” (sotto voce and also in a low voice that can hardly be heard]) “I knew that bastard would catch up with me sooner or later. Talk about a protective brother! And I hardly touched her!”
Luke: “Aunt Baru? She told me you took her by force.”
Ben: “WITH THE Force, kid! It’s VERY different. Not that Wader will care.”
Luke: “Wader? DARTH Wader? He’s here?”
Ben (indicating the smoke cloud): “I think he’s left his calling card.”
Luke: “Wow! I have his poster and I’m in his fan club and everything. Think he’ll give me an autograph if we can get back in time?”
Ben: “Your fath - I mean, the Dark Lord of the Skit probably ain’t got no time for signing autographs, Luke.”
Luke: “Hasn’t got time.”
Ben: “What?”
Luke: “I think you used one of them double negathings.”
Ben: “Negative.”
Luke: “No, you did, I heard you. Anyway let’s get back to the farm. We gotta burn rubber!”
Ben: “Landspeeders don’t have wheels, Luke.”
Luke: “Just an expression, General.”
Ben (to himself, shaking head): “A very unfortunate one, in the circumstances.”

__________________
Trollheart: Signature-free since April 2018

widmar

Carrabba's Happy hour includes half priced drinks and appetizers when you eat in the bar area. carrabba's happy hour 2023 is available daily starting at 4 p.m. For more information and to find your nearest location.