Who’s Yo Daddy

So Chuck Wendig (Terrible Minds.com) has challenged his cult of evil literary primates to take an iconic movie scene and rewrite it in a different genre and I, lacking the motivation to work on any one of the gazillion more pressing tasks in my life, decided to join in the demented throngs and do likewise.

I jumped on the first and least imaginative option: The oft-parodied “I AM YOUR FATHER” scene from …..one of the Star Wars movies…. I really couldn’t tell you which. (Commence irate huffing by pretentious SciFi snobs.) …….And I decided to turn it into an incestuous gay comedy sketch in the tradition of Monty Python.


Or don’t.

I love wading through email rants full of poorly spelled yet creative criticisms of my writing, lineage, and sexuality.

>>>>    Light sabres flashed and cut through the air with a neutron hum as the young man retreated out on to the catwalk. A slash, a thrust, and a deflection that cut into the guard rail. Hot metal sprayed across their feet and the pulse and electric hum quivered the air as both glowing swords took out a stanchion. More hot slag hit the boy’s arm, burning with a pain that was mostly lost in the torrent of adrenaline.

Amidst the shower of sparks the boy bolted forward and caught the dark knight in the arm – a minor win, it seemed, in the hindsight of a moment later when the evil Jedi forced him back, dodged his slash, and swiftly removed the boy’s hand.

His screams echoed down through the vast chamber and were lost somewhere far out in the darkness.

Darth Vader stood over Luke with the hot point of his weapon glowing inches from the boy’s exposed throat.

“There is no escape,” he growled, “Don’t make me destroy you.”

He retracted his light sabre and stepped back. “With our combined strength, we could end this destructive conflict and bring order to the galaxy.”

Luke had retreated out onto an antenna array and pulled himself up to glare at the dark villain. “You just cut off my fucking hand, bitch! Now you offer me a job?? Don’t you think you could’ve led with that shit?!”

“If you only knew the power of the dark side…” he said, “Obi Wan never told you about your father…”

“Who the fuck cares?!” Luke screamed, “He’s dead! And you just cut off my fucking hand!!”

“No,” Vader said with a masterful calm, “I am your father.”

Luke paused for a moment, staring at the shining figure of darkness.



“But that’s impossible.”

“Search your feelings,” Vader implored, “You know it to be true.”

“Uhhh, no. Seriously, that just makes no sense. I’m really fucking white. And I live on a desert planet. It’s not like I don’t get enough sun.”

“What does that have to do with anything?!” Vader roared.

“Well, you’re black.”

“I am not!”

“Yes you are.”

“This is just a suit!”

“No, I can hear it in your voice.”

“That is so racist.”

“No it’s not,” Luke said, “You’ve just got a really black voice. A real deep bass – beautiful timbre… You could sing jazz.”

“I’m very white under here, I assure you.”

“No. You’re black. And not just Morgan Freeman black. You’re really black. Like Djimon Hounsou black. Like Shaft black. Like…” he lowered his voice and managed a hoarse Isaac Hayes impression, “Yo muthafucka! I’m badass!”

“That’s… awful. You sound like Bane,” said Vader, “It’s the mask, it just muffles shit. I am your father.”

“Ahhh, no,” Luke said, “I don’t even have the right hair to be a mulatto.”

“Wha- that’s…” Vader stammered, “No one says that anymore!”

“Look at my nose!” Luke said, “Or even- yeah, here…” He started to unbuckle his trousers.

“Put that away! Look, maybe I’m a little dark. But your mother was very light. It evens out.”

Luke screwed up his face, “Was she translucent? Cuz I don’t even tan.”

“She was like Ivory! Delicate and fragile, yet very athletic and able to kill monsters in an impromptu crop top.” Vader fumbled through a wallet he pulled from his back pocket and pulled out a 2X2 picture, holding it out to Luke, who promptly giggled.

“That’s Natalie Portman. She’s currently seeing the Norse god of thunder. Dude, if you’re going to make up a girlfriend, at least pick a more believable match.”

“We were married– ”

“I thought Jedi take vows of celibacy…”

“We married in secret!”

“Of course! You’re secretly married to Natalie Portman!”

“Search your feelings, Luke. You know it to be true. I am–  ”

“Prove it,” he said, cutting Vader off, “Let’s see your face.”

“You’re looking at it.”

“Let’s see the resemblance, bitch! Take off the helmet.”

“It doesn’t come off. It is as much a part of me as these cybernetic limbs.”

“How the hell do you wash?”

“I do not.”

“That’s…” Luke struggled to find the words, with a sincerely disturbed look in his eyes, “That’s….. Unhygenic.”

“It is moulded to my face. Fused with my flesh. We are one.”

“Wow… That’s…. gross. And you should really get that looked at. And,” he swooshed his remaining hand around in the direction of the Sith Lord’s crotch, “maybe have someone check on whatever the hell’s going on down there, cuz there’s bound to be some evil happenin’ south of the border if you haven’t been scrubbing.”

“ENOUGH! Vader demanded, “YOU ARE MY SON. Join me, and together we shall bring order to the galaxy.”

“You don’t want me as a son,” Luke said, “We wouldn’t get along… I’d be a constant disappointment.”

“Nothing you could ever do would disappoint me.”

“I’m gay.”

“Wha- How?…. You are but sixteen! How could you even know you are gay?!”

“Did you know you were straight when you were sixteen?”

“I was too busy staging a coup and taking control of the Galactic Federation!”

“So, no.”

“I am not gay!” Vader yelled, trying to sound certain, “And you’re not gay! Have you ever even kissed a girl?”




“That doesn’t count! She’s your sister!”

“Yeah, but I didn’t know she was my sister.”

“Well,” said Vader quietly, shaking his head, “At least it was just a kiss.”

“Third base, actually,”

“Oh gross!” he barked, looking off and pretending to vomit over the side, “You touched her boobs?!”

“Uh, yeah, but that’s not third base.”

“Sure it is. First base, kiss; second base, tongue; third is copping a feel.” He reached out a vinyl gloved hand and briefly mimed squeezing a breast, in the same way one might honk a clown’s nose. Twice.

Luke chuckled and stood straighter, leaning on the antenna array. “Look,” he said, “First base is kissing, second is boob action, third… is…” He raised his right hand and gave a couple jerky movements before clucking his tongue and winking at Vader.

“Ah nasty! You fisted your sister?!”

Luke looked back at the charred stump of his right wrist and remembered he no longer had a hand there. Stupid phantom limb syndrome. So he demonstrated with his left, using two fingers in a ‘come hither’ gesture.

“Ah fuck,” Vader said in a muffled voice, grabbing at the mouth piece of his helmet, “I’m gonna puke in this thing.”

Luke stood impatiently as Darth Vader bent over in a flurry of groaning and choking sounds. “Look, can we hurry this along?”

“Oh what?! You got some place to be?!”

“Well,” he held up his stump, “I kinda need medical attention.”

“Oh, don’t be a wiener. It’s cauterized! Not like you’re going to bleed to death.”

“Yeah, thanks. I didn’t need my right hand anyway.”

“At least you won’t be finger-fucking your sister again!”

“…Or wiping my ass, or piloting a fighter, or holding a lightsabre, or opening a ketchup bottle…”

“Ohhh, enough!” Vader said, “It’ll grow back.”

“I’m a Jedi, not Swamp Thing.”

“They’ll put a new one on!”

“And how much is that going to cost?!” Luke shouted, “My HMO doesn’t cover limbs! I’ll have to get Chewy to make me a hook or something.”

“As ruler of the galaxy, I brought in Universal Healthcare for ALL citizens of the Empire!”

“Yeah, well, we’re currently in the middle of a civil war, so…. Yeah. Limited accessibility.”

“Well,” Vader stood with one hand on his hip and the other pointing an evil finger at his son, “Perhaps you should have thought about that before you blew up my Ginormous Iron Testicle of Doom.”

“You mean the Death Star?”

“That’s a stupid name. Now look, come to the Dark Side! We have ham… And bacon… And – ” he made a flourish with both hands and spirit fingers, “Fully covered replacement parts.”

“No cookies and beer?” Luke asked.

“Sorry, no alcohol or caffeine.” Vader proclaimed.

“What are we, fucking Mormons?!”

Vader’s left hand shot out, fingers grasped menacingly in open air, his helmet glistening in the light as he stared into Luke’s eyes. “Join me or I will destroy you.”

Luke moaned and shuddered, his eyes starting to roll back in his head, his hand slipping away from the array. His legs trembled, threatening to give out before he reached back again and braced himself on the array. His tongue lolled in his open mouth and his breath came in shivers.

The Sith Lord canted his head to the right of his outstretched arm to examine the young man. “The… fuck… are you doing?”

“I… ohhhh, yeah… I was going to ask you – ohh – the same thing.”

“I am using the Force to choke you,” he hissed.

Luke gave a wry chuckle, followed by a mellow moan and in between slow, heavy breaths, said, “Well, you’re choking something.”

Slowly his hand began to slide down to where the Force was gripping him and his hips began to rock gently.

“What the fuck?” said Vader, and then as it dawned on him, “EW!”

He let go abruptly, much to Luke’s dismay.

“I didn’t say stop!”

Darth Vader was too busy shaking his hand and making sounds of revulsion, wiping it on his cape. “Why does that feel wet?!

“Thanks Dad,” called Luke.

“Shut up! I’m not going to be chided over an incestuous hand job by you!”

“Still,” Luke mused, “It makes for a provocative headline. ‘Evil Galactic Ruler Diddles Estranged Son.’”

“Enough. No one saw anything.”

“Then maybe,” said Luke, eyeing him and stepping closer, “It doesn’t have to be an accident…”

“That’s disgusting!” said Vader, already feeling Luke’s Force spreading over him, “Stop that!”

Luke moved his feelings southward, trying to make Vader gasp.


“You will never accomplish your rebel goals down there.”

“Really?” asked Luke, groping and searching about with his feelings, “Nothing?”

“There was a mishap.”

“Did it involve a goddamned light sabre?” Luke asked, holding up his stump.

“Kenobi dismembered me and left me for dead. Left me to burn on a barren, waste of rock, surrounded by rising magma.”


“LAVA!” he shouted, “I was scorched black, a ruinous cadaver, helpless even to crawl to my death until the Emperor rescued me-”

“And this is the guy you want me to help you kill…”

“Yup. All of my limbs have been replaced by cold, unfeeling steel…”

“Everything?” Luke asked, his eyes drifting down to Vader’s matte black codpiece.

“No, that was burnt off and deemed unnecessary for ruling the universe.”

“Ooh. Jesus. No wonder you’re always in such a bad mood.”

“The universe is my bitch now!” Vader asserted, thrusting a clawed prosthetic hand into the air, “I need not a pecker to pound her into submission.”

“But you needed to kill billions of people and annihilate the entire Jedi order…”

“I did it to protect your mother!” he howled, holding is hand out toward Luke, “It was the only way I could prevent my vision of her death from coming to pass!”

“So, where is she in all of this?”

Vader dropped his outstretched hand and looked away. “She died.”

“What?!” cried Luke, “What the hell? How did she die?”

Vader turned back to Luke and pointed his finger, wailing, “Giving birth to yoooooouuuuuu!!!”

“Oh, nice guilt trip. What are we? Jewish?!”

“Possibly. I was born of a virgin.”

Luke turned away and looked despondently over the edge, into the abyss below. “We’re going to get so much hate mail over this.”


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