“You sunk my battleship,” Little Timmy frowned.
“Ha!
I win again!” Luke exclaimed. “Want to play another?”
“You
already won three in a row. Let’s do something else.”
“Monopoly?”
“That’s
no fun with only two people.”
“Risk?”
“It’s
one o’clock now,” Little Timmy said, “and I have to be home by six. We’ll never
get a whole game in.”
“I
know!” Luke ran to his bed and grabbed a long plastic sword from beneath it. He
pressed a button on the handle and it lit up bright red. “Let’s play Star Wars!”
“I
don’t like Star Wars,” Little Timmy
responded.
“Haha,
that’s funny—you don’t like Star Wars. What are you going to tell me
next, you don’t like Adele? Come on, you can be Han Solo.”
“I’m
serious, Luke. I don’t like Star Wars.”
“But
everybody likes Star Wars?”
“I
don’t.”
“Stop
kidding around,” Luke declared, “and admit that you like Star Wars.”
“But
I don’t.”
“I’m
warning you. If you don’t say that you like Star
Wars I’ll…”
“You’ll
what?”
“Just
say it!”
“I
don’t like Star Wars!”
With
those words, Luke lost it. He struck Little Timmy across the head with his
light saber and continued to pound his friend’s skull until the room was
splattered in blood.
Hearing
the commotion, Luke’s mother ran upstairs and burst through the door. “Oh my
God!” she screamed. “What have you done?”
“He
said he didn’t like Star Wars.”
“Didn’t like Star Wars?” Luke’s mother
was confused. “What do you mean, he didn’t like Star Wars?”
“He
said he didn’t like Star Wars and…and…and…” Luke began to cry.
“It’s
alright, honey, everything’s going to be okay.”
Luke’s
mother called Little Timmy’s mother. “Leia, there’s been an accident. You need
to get over here as soon as possible…”
When
Leia arrived, she was taken to Luke’s bedroom, where she found her dead son’s
body lying in a pool of blood. “What happened?” she screamed. “What happened to
my son?”
“Apparently,”
Luke’s mother said, “he said he didn’t like Star Wars.”
“What
do you mean he said he didn’t like Star
Wars? Obviously he was joking!”
“Luke
says he wasn’t.”
“I
don’t care what Luke says! My son is dead! Your son murdered him! Call the
police for Christ’s sake!”
The
police arrived, taped off the crime scene, and began asking questions. “What do
you mean he didn’t like Star Wars?”
Detective Jawa asked. “He was obviously joking.”
“I
have a camera in Luke’s bedroom,” Luke’s mother explained. “We can watch the
video.”
They
watched the video. “Well,” Detective Jawa said, “on one hand, it’s clear that Little
Timmy wasn’t joking about not liking Star
Wars, but on the other, Luke did murder him, so I think, unfortunately, we’ll
have to press charges and let a jury decide his fate.”
The
case went to court and the jury didn’t know what to do. Sure, it was clear that
Luke killed Little Timmy with a light saber, but the real question was: Did
Little Timmy deserve it? After all, he did claim to not like Star Wars. I mean, do we really want
people like that in our society? Wasn’t he most likely a sociopath? But it was
murder. And murder was murder.
“Guilty!”
the jury proclaimed.
Upon
the verdict, riots immediately began across the nation. Hundreds of thousands
of Star Wars fans, most dressed in
costume, demonstrated in the streets, demanding that Luke be released from
jail. It was all anybody talked about.
Among
those talking was billionaire, and Presidential Candidate, Ronald Boon, who declared
to the nation that if he was elected to office, his first task would be to
pardon Luke. His poll numbers instantly shot through the roof and that November
he was elected President.
On
his first day in office, President Boon, staying true to his campaign pledge,
pardoned Luke. On his second day, he began rounding up anybody who didn’t like Star Wars and placing them in
concentration camps.
A
year into his term, President Boon began wearing a Darth Vader mask and
declaring war on neighboring countries when new Star Wars films didn’t reach number one at their respective box offices.
In
June of that year he shot off his first nuke.
By
December, the world was destroyed.
All
because one boy didn’t like Star Wars.
The
end.
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