Darth Vader on a Sugar High Chronicles

There was this Star Wars fanfic I read back in the 2000s that was really funny called Darth Vader on a Sugar High Chronicles. I am so glad I saved it because I can't find it anymore. I thought I'd share it with you before it gets lost to time.

Chapter One: Trevor Has a Plan


It was Darth Vader's birthday. Every single person whom worked on the Death Star had tried to get the day off. They had pleaded and begged and shmoozed for all they were worth, but the answer was the same as always. NO.


Everyone dreaded Darth Vader's birthday. That was one of the few times a year (including Christmas, New Years, and The Fourth of July) when the Sith Lord strode around in his most Sith Lordly manner, scaring the living crap out of everyone. It was a great, long standing Sith tradition to scream at one's minions individually (and sometimes by name) on one's birthday. Even poor Trevor the trainee knew he would get yelled at for something or another.


Darth Vader would invent some shortcoming, always. He never failed. Whether it was someone needed to wash their boots, or polish their helmet, or stand more straightly at attention, Vader would find something to yell about. In other words, he couldn't be happier.


Of course, Trevor had a plan. Trevor was the most unfortunate Storm Trooper that ever lived (even counting a few who didn't) and there was nothing that could be done about it. No matter how faithfully he padded his helmet with four leaved clovers, carried horseshoes in his pockets, or wished on his lucky rabbit's foot, Trevor always had bad luck. Some said it was just his imagination, some said he was dropped on his head as a small child, some said he was just plain pathetic, but poor Trevor slugged on.


So, Trevor had a plan. He bought a cookie. Why he felt that this cookie would keep him from being yelled at is still unclear. But that was Trevor's plan and that was Trevor for you.


When Darth Vader called all the Storm Troopers for role call (which most of the time he neglected to do) they all stood straight in fully polished armor. Nobody as much as breathed, or twitched, or blinked. Vader paced up and down in front of the nervous soldiers, apparently thinking about it.


"Jim! Tuck in your shirt!" he said sharply. Jim cringed in his helmet. He was glad he had a helmet.


"But sir, I don't have a shirt on."


"I don't care, do you hear me Mister-I-Know-Everything-About-Nothing? TUCK THE SHIRT IN!" Darth Vader yelled. Jim cringed and brushed off his chest plate. Darth Vader seemed satisfied and looked for his next victim. Trevor took a breath. He couldn't help it. His lungs had felt like they were on fire without air, because he was only a trainee after all. Darth Vader walked over to him. Trevor held out the cookie in the plastic baggie it was in.


"I bought you a cookie for your birthday, sir," he said, trembling. Darth Vader snatched the cookie and glared at it.


"Thankyou Trevor," he said quietly, and Trevor was about to feel safe again. "NOW GO CLEAN YOUR GUN! IT'S A DISGRACE!" Trevor gave a yelp like a whipped dog and ran off to clean his gun. It was probably the most immaculate gun on the ship, but Lord Vader had to scream at Trevor about something.


So our favorite helmeted Sith continued to menace his troops until they had to go about their duties. Then he was bored and went to his office to be bored there.


Then Darth Vader remembered the cookie. He looked at the plastic baggie. It was a very ordinary cookie, but it seemed to insult him. It had bright pink frosting with rainbowy sprinkles. And so, Darth Vader glared at it. When it failed to cringe in fear, he decided he would have to eliminate the cookie.


And so, Darth Vader ate that cookie. How and why he did is a mystery in itself, but what has happened has happened. It was a very sugary cookie, and it was satisfying to not have it sitting there insultingly anymore. Darth Vader immediately remembered he had to go yell at the weapons specialists now, and walked off happily to do that.

Chapter Two: Sugar and Evil Make Insanity



There is something that should be said about Trevor's cookie. It was about eighty percent sugar, ten percent air, and ten more percent sugar. It was about as big around as a CD besides that. And unfortunately, this large amount of sugar and birthday-yelling-at-people-happiness did not have a positive effect on Darth Vader. By the time he got to the weapons control room, he was skipping and humming to himself.


"Um, hello sir," said a weapons specialist nervously. Darth Vader momentarily forgot why he was there. He looked at the weapons specialist.


"Um, why did I come here again?" then, not waiting for an answer, the Sith Lord dashed off down the hallway with a shout of "GRAMPA!" The weapons specialists that had noticed peered down the hall after him with weirded out expressions on their faces. They looked at eachother, back down the hallway, and back at eachother. All of them dropped what they were doing and began to scurry quietly for the escape pods.


Darth Vader skipped on down the hallway, humming happily. He approached Darth Sideous's (sp?) chamber.


"GRAMPA GRAMPA GRAMPA!" he shouted like a happy three-year old, running into the room. His master stared at him like he had three heads.


"Grampa, can I have a pony?" he asked innocently. Darth Sideous glared at him.


"How many times have I told you not to call me Grampa?" he growled. Darth Vader thought about that.


"Three, but can I have a pony?" Darth Sideous *glared* and used the force to throw Vader out of the room. Darth Vader glowered at him like a pouting child.


"Stinky old lame guy!" he yelled and ran away. Darth Sideous promptly fell asleep.


So, Darth Vader scampered off to find something to do. In his sugary hyperness, he was bored and needed something to entertain. So he hunted down one of the numerous generals and began to poke him when he wasn't looking, then jump away when he did. It was quite fun. But Vader got bored again when the poor man eventually took off down the hall screaming about ghosts.


A few hours later, nobody had seen our dear Sith in quite a while, so they were actually starting to be concerned instead of releived. So, they all reluctantly began to search the ship. A Storm Trooper named Frederic (he was quite proud of his name) was unlucky enough to find him. He was luckier than Trevor of course (Trevor was stuck in the trash compactor at that moment) but not by much.


"Um, sir? What are you doing?" he asked. Vader looked up at him suspiciously. He was sitting under a table with a flashlight. He looked left, then right, then whispered.


"Psst, Freddy, are you with the Pink Bunnies?" he asked with an edge of paranoia. Frederic swallowed his rage at being called Freddy, and whispered back patiently.


"No, why?" he asked. Darth Vader looked left, then right again.


"Good, you can stay under the table too. They're taking over the world." Frederic considered that for a moment.


"But Sir, we're not on the world," he said. Darth Vader brightened.


"We're not? Good!" he said, his voice back to normal. He jumped out from under the table and skipped off down the hall, singing the theme song from Sesame Street.


Frederic closed his eyes for a minute, opened them, and turned on the communicator.


"Yes?" asked the person on the other end.


"I think we have a problem..."



If you want to post more, let me know

 

Here is more of it, unfortunately, it sends on a cliffhanger on chapter 7

Chapter Three: Freddy's On a Mission!



Darth Vader was sitting in his office, giggling. He had a purple crayon in one hand and was writing in little-kiddish handwriting with it. He was making plans for a birthday party. He was writing the invitations.


Vader liked this purple crayon, if only because it was nice and glittery. It left glittery purple marks on the glittery paper. Yes, he liked glitter a little too much.


So our favorite Sith looked at the guest list with pride. This was going to be a great party! He had invited everybody he could remember that he knew. In fact, he was so excited, he invited twelve more people who were actually dead. But that mattered not to Lord Vader!


"Ah, sir?" Someone was knocking on the door. Darth Vader glared at the door. It did not open. He glared harder. It still didn't open. So Darth Vader sighed and pushed the button on his desk, muttering about how much work he had to do around here.


"Yes?" he asked. It was Frederic again.


"Sir? Were you hiding under a table about twenty minutes ago?" asked Fred. Vader glared.


"What's it to ya punk?" he snapped in a Brooklyn accent. Frederic raised his eyebrows. He was glad he had a helmet so nobody could see him do that.


"Excuse me?" he asked, incredulous.


"What's it to ya punk?" growled Vader again, "If ya want my money you're gonna have to answer to my friend here!" He drew his Lightsaber, which he had re-colored glittery purple in honor of his new favorite color, which was of course glittery purple. Frederic yelped and ran.


Darth Vader laughed and began to chase Freddy down the hallway. They smashed into people, random objects, and a toaster oven that was lying in the middle of the floor for no reason.


Poor, poor Trevor, whom had just managed to crawl out of the trash compactor, got run over by the screaming Freddy and cackling Vader. He passed out in the middle of the hallway. As was Trevor's luck, a cleaner droid rolled up and gathered him up, then made its way toward the incinerator.


Darth Vader cornered Freddy in a corner. (obviously) Freddy trembled with terror. Darth Vader put the Lightsaber away. Then he spoke in a very happy, childish voice.


"You're official cookie-maker for my birthday party!" he announced, then ran away. Somebody had to hand out invitations!


Frederic closed his eyes for a minute, then opened them. He did not know how to cook. The last time he tried, the soup he made had solidified in the pot into a weird sort of cake that tasted like pepperoni and smelled strongly of dead fish. How would he make cookies?


Then Freddy had an idea. First, he was going to kill the authoress of this story for refering to him as Freddy (Meef!) then he was going to find Trevor. Hadn't Trevor given Lord Vader the super-duper-uber-hyperness cookie that morning?


Yes, that's what Freddy would do. So, he set out on his new quest to find Trevor.


Meanwhile, poor, poor Trevor was still passed out inside the cleaner droid. Fortunately, the cleaning droid also picked up the toaster oven that had been lying in the middle of the floor for no reason. This hit Trevor on the head and he woke up, screaming like a little girl.


Then, he was confused. Trevor wondered where he was, then suddenly a dust-bunny hit him in the side of the head and he realized he was inside the cleaner droid. That could only mean it was going to the incinerator!


Trevor started screaming and pounding on the insides of the cleaner droid. It did not stop. The cleaner droid briefly wondered if it was suffering from indigestion, but went on.


Fortunately, for once in Trevor's miserable life, he got lucky. Frederic, on his mini-mission to find Trevor, passed the cleaner droid and heard his shouting. So, Freddy stopped the droid and opened it up. Trevor tumbled out, coughing and sputtering due to his dust allergy.


"What the heck are you doing inside a cleaner droid?" asked Freddy. Trevor shrugged. Freddy sighed.

"Well, I need your help," he said.


"Why?" asked Trevor, getting up. The cleaner droid seemed to glare at him, then it went away.


"Because Lord Vader has appointed me official cookie maker for his birthday party!" screamed Freddy in frustration. Trevor snorted. Freddy glared murderously at him.


"It's true! Now where did you get that cookie from?" he shouted. Trevor flinched.


"The cafeteria!" he replied. Without another word, Freddy grabbed Trevor by the wrist and dragged him down the hallway. They were going to the cafeteria.


Chapter Four: 1,001 Ways to Blow Up a Kitchen


Jim, the Storm Trooper that had been forced to tuck in his non-existant shirt in the first chapter of this idiocy, was in the cafeteria at the time. He had to man the counter now. No one else would man the counter, it was far too boring. Nobody came to the cafeteria at this time of day. In fact, this would explain why Jim was asleep.


It was quite a sound sleep too. Jim did not wake up when Freddy, still hauling Trevor the trainee by the wrist, slammed the doors open and marched in. Nor did he awake when Freddy yelled at him. The some nothing-happening occured when he was shaken by a very frustrated Frederic. It took a combination of Freddy and Trevor yelling at him and shaking him at the same time to snap Jim out of his manning-the-counter doze.


"I-DIDN'T-DO-IT-OFFICER-I-SWEAR!" yelped Jim in alarm as he jumped awake. He fell off the top of the counter (which he had been sleeping on) and landed with a loud WHUMP on the floor. Freddy managed to have calmed down by this time.


"Are there any cookies here?" he asked. Jim gave him a funny look as he pulled himself up off the floor. What did Frederic want with cookies? Surely it wasn't lunch break yet?


"Why?" he asked. Freddy was alarmingly calm. He would have normally been trembling with annoyed frustration by now, but he was calm. When Freddy is calm when he should be furious, things must be quite bad.


"Because Lord Vader appointed him official cookie maker for his birthday party and Fredd-I mean Frederic can't cook," answered Trevor. Jim nodded. Now he understood. He had heard something about Vader acting very strangely earlier, and had accepted it. Jim was a rather acceptional person. He would accept almost anything, within reason.


"We don't have any cookies. They sold out." Frederic twitched menacingly. Jim started to sweat.


"But we can make some, the recipe's around here somewhere," he said. The other two sighed heavily in relief. This was going to be a lot easier than they thought.


"Okay, let's get to work!" said Trevor. And so the three Storm Troopers went and found chef's hats, washed their hands (with gloves still on) and got to work. The recipe had been glued randomly to the ceiling, so Trevor was standing on a step ladder in the middle of the kitchen, squinting up at it with a pair of binoculars. You see, the ceiling was quite high up so that food things that had to be tossed (such as pizzas, doughnuts, and gummi bears) did not get stuck and go bad for a month, then fall on unsuspecting people. The cooks missed the entertainment terribly.


Trevor squinted up at the way-too-high ceiling. Trevor had a weak stomach. Just looking at something that high up made him feel queasy. Why did they have to glue the recipe to the ceiling anyway?


Trevor read off the recipe. It was full of things that he couldn't pronounce, so when they accidentally mixed up salt with sugar and baked it for ten minutes instead of two hours, Freddy took over the job.


Jim and Trevor scrambled as fast as they could like little ants making cookie batter. They decided it would be a lot easier to make one big cookie instead of fifty little ones, so they had to use the uber-big-room-sized oven to cook it on several cookie sheets and a pizza pan.


The trio stood back to admire their work as official cookie makers, but just then the cookie began to swell. All three of them stared in horror.


"SHE'S GONNA BLOW!" shrieked Jim. The three ran in slow-mo for the door, pulled it open, and ran in slow-mo across the cafeteria. They all dove udner a table as the cookie exploded.


BUH-WOOM!


They looked into the kitchen. Fortunately, the door to the giant oven was still shut. Unfortunately, when they attempted to open it, they found it to be glued shut with half-baked cookie.


"Asterisk! At sign! Percent sign! Exclamation point! Ampersand! Pound Sign! Dollar Sign! Asterisk! Percent sign! Ampersand! Exclamation point!" shouted Frederic. He made a face.


"Cartoon swearing is so unsatisfying!" He sat on the stepladder and quietly had a mental breakdown. Jim looked into the oven-room via the little door window. He couldn't see anything due to the cookie mess, but he still looked.


"Okay, so what did we do wrong?" he asked, scratching the top of his helmet. Trevor shrugged. Jim looked.


"Did we get the right number of tablespoons of yeast?' Jim asked Trevor. Trevor went pale in his helmet and froze like someone who has just realized he is in a whole lot of trouble, or a deer in headlights. Your pick. He gulped.


"Tablespoons?" he asked in a small voice. Jim gave him a funny look.


"Yeah, what did you think TBS stood for?" he was beginning to suspect what had gone wrong. Frederic lay on the floor in the fetal position, occasionally yelling "At Sign Dollar Sign Amersand Percent Sign Exclamation Point!" but they ignored him.


"Er, ten square pounds?" said Trevor. Jim groaned. Now what were they going to do?


"C'mon Trevor I have an idea," he said. They shook Freddy until he snapped out of it (this took two minutes and a jug of water) and set off to find a crowbar so that they could pry open the oven door.

 

Here is the rest of the fic, hopefully it will keep being passed on and enjoyed I have to post it in a few parts

Chapter Five: Meanwhile, Back at the Ranch


As all of this cooking-related stupidity occured, Darth Vader had employed another Storm Trooper, Catherine, to hand out his glittery purple invitations. Catherine was embarassed by his name, so he had convinced almost everybody that it was actually Bob. Fortunately for Catherine/Bob, Darth Vader was among those that called him Bob. I myself call him Bob because it has fewer letters than Catherine.


Bob was rather lucky. He was at least a hundred times luckier than Frederic, and luckier than Trevor could even dream of being. He accepted the fact that Darth Vader was acting weird, because he knew it was better for your health to not ask questions. Not even the all important, "Sir? What do I do to get rid of this orangutan?" was not acceptable.


"Okay Bob, just give it to the person whose name is on the envelope!" Vader grinned. Bob nodded and looked at the glittery purple envelopes, which contained the glittery purple invites the Sith Lord had written in glittery purple crayon. Bob felt his eyes sting trying to read the glittery purple letters on the glittery purple paper, but decided not to say anything. Anyhow, Darth Vader was already skipping off down the hallway singing and therefore too busy to notice. Bob doubted his commander's little mind could remember that many minutes back in its current apparently damaged state.


So Bob looked around. The first name on the list was Billy Bob Joe. Catherine/Bob thought about that for a moment, then flipped to the next envelope. It read Billy Luke Skywalker Joe. Then Billy Han Solo Joe. And after that Billy Freddy Joe. Bob, being lucky, figured out that if he ignored the Billy and Joe, he would be okay. Well, Bob was Bob, so he opened his invite. It said, in hard-to-read glittery purple crayon on glittery purple paper, the following. ( Bob noticed that many of the letters were written backwards)


Bob, pleeze come to mi birthday partee on the Deth Star at too o clock twoday. Thankyoo.

Luv, Darth Vayder.

PS. Pleeze bring me a prezent.



Bob snorted and stuffed the glittery purple abomination into his pocket. Oh well, he supposed if Darth Vader had gone insane today his brain was probably floating around Coruscant or somewhere similar for no apparent reason, and therefore not in the Sith's head.


So, since he was smart aswell as lucky, Bob decided to hand out the invitations to people on the ship before having to leave.


This actually proved rather hard. Despite Bob/Catherine's luck and smartness, he didn't know everyone on the ship. So he got help from the cleaner droid from chapter three.


Bob and the droid ran around for about half an hour passing out invites to all the Storm Troopers. Most of them had about the same reaction to them as Bob had. They snorted and stuffed the glittery purple abominations into their pockets and decided to cancel their usual two o' clock bowling tournament. They all knew they were likely going to regret this decision, but that was that. If you stiffed Vader you wouldn't get to bowl for a week instead of a day. All of them, except for Tom, (who had been dropped on his head as a small child) preferred a day to a week.


Finally Bob/Catherine got down to the last three Storm Troopers. He didn't know Frederic, Trevor, or Jim very well, so he knew he would have to put some effort into finding them.


Meanwhile, the cleaner droid had found them. In fact, the three of them were beating on the droid with wooden spoons and shouting. The droid didn't get it, and was a little annoyed. It was doing its job after all!


"No! No! Back fiend! We need this mess!" shouted Trevor. The droid gave up after a few minutes of being hammered at and rolled away with a flat tire, looking rather like a soup can that had been pushed rather forcibly through a meat grinder. Jim, Freddy, and Trevor gave eachother high fives, then the Storm Troopers returned to their urgent work. They had finally found the crow bar (Which had been under the sofa in Darth Vader's office so they had to be very careful so they didn't wake the sugar-hyped Sith up from his mid-day nap) and had succeeded in forcing the room-sized oven's door off.


Jim's idea hadn't been particularly brilliant, but it was working so far. Freddy had yelled at them that you don't put yeast in cookies, but they didn't have enough sugar to make another giant cookie. So they had to compromise. The trio were now scraping cookie batter off the oven walls and making it into little round cookie-shaped things before it dried. They stacked all of these in the kitchen.


"Now how are we going to make frosting now that we're out of sugar?" wondered Trevor. He was only a trainee after all. So they all looked around and then sighed with defeat. All three curled up in fetal positions on the floor and cursed like Freddy for a little while after that. They were DOOMED!


"Er, Jim, Trevor, Frederic?" at that moment Bob/Catherine walked into the kitchen. Noticing them all having mental breakdowns and having flour and cookie batter all over them, he stared. Then the panicking chefs noticed Bob staring at them and all stood up very quickly and acted innocent. Bob then looked at the pile of cookie-shaped nuggets of dry batter. Because Bob/Catherine was smart aswell as lucky, he knew that whatever had happened they were in trouble.


"Okay, these belong to you," said Bob. He gave them their invitations. They opened them, read them, then snorted and stuffed the glittery purple abominations into their pockets. Then they looked at Bob/Catherine. All of them knew that Bob was legendary for being smart, lucky, and being named Catherine. What they really needed right now was someone smart and lucky who was really named Catherine.


"Bob, can you help us out? We ran out of sugar and have to make frosting," said Jim. Bob was out of invites, so he decided it wouldn't hurt. The other three watched him hopefully as he applied his lucky brain to the problem. Bob then marched out into the cafeteria and began to gather all the sugar packets from the tables and the coffee maker. The unsuccessful bakers felt like particularly moronic idiots.


"Okay, this is sugar," said Bob/Catherine. They all decided to let Bob read the recipe for the frosting. They had to move the step ladder though because the recipe for the frosting was stuck to the ceiling above the vending machines. Frederic seriously hoped he would not be official cookie maker next year. Either that or he hoped that Vader would confiscate the cook's glue guns.


The hapless, helpless, hopeless group finally succeeded in making frosting. In fact, it was glittery purple frosting. So they set about applying it. They had decided to do this using turkey basters because it might be faster. Of course, the key word in that sentence is "might." So, therefore, it actually took a significant amount of time to finish applying frosting to the heap of cookie-shaped nuggets of dried batter.


By this time it was 1:30 and Bob had only a half an hour to quickly deliver the rest of the invites. He left and the trio of unfortunate Storm Troopers headed off to clean the cookie batter off their armor. Well, at least as much of it as they could scrub off before Darth Vader did anything stupid.


Speaking of Darth Vader, he was in his office, waking up. This could only mean something utterly moronic and random was about to take place.

 

Chapter Six: Life as Told by Sam


Darth Vader was, as I have said, awake. He was still suffering (Well, maybe not suffering) from sugar-induced hyperness. So he decided he needed more sugar before the party started.

He looked blearily around the room and found a rainbow-striped towel hanging on the back of his favorite chair. He didn't know how the towel got there. He picked it up and glared at it. He sniffed the towel, then licked it once to be sure. Yup, it was his. So, everyone's favorite hyperactive Sith tied the towel around his neck like Superman and ran down the hallway, yelling.


"I'M FLYING!" shrieked Vader to anyone he happened to be running past. He had his hands out in front of his head like a super hero and was running at an unnatural speed. Storm Troopers, Colonels, a little old lady, and a few Weapons Technicians that forgot where the escape pods were earlier all dove out of his way in panic as he passed. Darth Vader giggled like a hyper three-year old and waved his glittery purple lightsaber at the air in front of him for no reason. He was going to find Sam.


Yes, I know what you're thinking! You're thinking Sam was another Storm Trooper, aren't you? Shame shame shame! Assumptions these days! I assure you that Sam was not a Storm Trooper. She was a cat. Sam was, in fact, Darth Vader's magical talking cat that they wouldn't let him have in the movies. He even threw three tantrums but several stern lectures about how being "intimidating" and "imposing" was impossible while holding a magical talking cat had managed to make him go on without her.


Sam was sleeping in Darth Sideous's lap. Darth Sideous wasn't happy about this. First of all, he was allergic to magical talking cats. Second of all, he knew that any second now his currently-hyper oaf of an apprentice was going to come charging in here panicking because he couldn't find his beloved snuggly-buggly-woo. But of course, Darth Sideous was too old and arthritic to do anything about it. And so Sam the silver tabby sat in his lap, being disgustingly cute as she left gray cat hairs on him and infecting him with fleas, ticks, and God-knew-what. It made him twitch in annoyance.


Darth Vader, as predicted, charged into the room. He spotted his beloved kitty and seized her, rocking the cat in his arms gleefully.

"SAM!" He shouted and hugged her. Sam began to turn blue. Darth Sideous wanted to throw up, but he was too old and arthritic to throw up.


"I-Can't-BREATHE-SIR!" yelped Sam. Darth Vader stopped squeezing the life out of his cat and put her down. Sam hated being hugged so tightly she couldn't breathe almost as much as she hated baths. Darth Sideous would have closed his eyes so he didn't have to watch the stupid scene unfolding before him. But, unfortunately and as you may have guessed, he was too old and arthritic to close his eyes beyond blinking. Darth Vader crouched down on the floor to talk to Sam.


"Sam, I need sugar," he said. Sam sighed. She knew it would only make this entire situation 8,792 times worse, but there was something that you should know about Sam. Sam liked chaos. So she thought about all of the places to get sugar. A grin spread across her muzzle. A very evil grin.


"Okay, let's go find some sugar," said Sam. Sam headed off down the hallway with Darth Vader prancing like a little girl, still wearing his towl like a cape, after her. Darth Sideous decided to try to forget this ever happened.


Sam had stashed a lot of pixi stix. There were at least fifty-seven boxes of them. She had been saving these pixi stix for no real reason, but now they were going to come in handy. Sam had hidden them next to the trash compactor. Trevor had fallen into the trash compactor when he was trying to get them, but that is beside the point.


Darth Vader's eyes shown in delight as he gazed upon the sugary goodness. He had never seen so much sugar in one place in his whole life. It brought tears of joy to his eyes at the beauty of it. Then, he began to eat the pixi stix, wrapper and all, six at a time.


Sam was proud of herself. So, she began to groom herself in celebration of being so useful and wondering how the universe would do without her. Sam was a slightly self centered magical talking cat, you know.


But meanwhile, a few seconds ago on a planet not too far away, there was much confuzzlement occuring.

Luke Skywalker, Han Solo, and Princess Leia were all very, very confuzzled. Here was some Storm Trooper who said his name was Bob, giving them bright purple envelopes that had badly written invitations to Darth Vader's birthday party in them.

Bob was nervous. He was sweating.


"You see, erm, Lord Vader has been acting really weird lately because he ate too much sugar." Han nodded slowly. Luke raised an eyebrow. Leia mouthed "Oh my God..."


Of course, they decided to come because they had nothing better to do and wanted to see Vader displaying behavior common in the average three year old.


Bob had a hard time finding the ghosts of Obi Wan Kenobi, Yoda, and Mace Windu, as they were dead, but they all decided to come too for the above reason. Then that left poor Bob to figure out who Barney was. When he realised the great Sith Lord had invited a purple dinosaur to his party, he almost passed out laughing in his TIE-Fighter. Then, reasoning that Barney was purple, he knew he had to go find him. Maybe Barney was supposed to be the pinata?


Of course, Barney was so excited when Bob invited him that he imploded. Bob turned an interesting shade of green, wondering how he was going to explain this to Lord Vader, climbed back in the fighter, and headed back to the Death Star.


As all of this confuzzlement was occuring, Darth Vader was going through pixi stix at a rate similar to that of a paper shredder. He was happy and would likely be sugar-rushing his way into next month. Sam was proud of herself and the fact that Darth Vader would be behaving like a moron for a long time. It rarely happened. But then, when it was over, he usually had to scream is brains out at the entire populace of the Death Star, so it wasn't all fun and games.


Fully sugar-jazzed, Vader seized Sam and dashed down the hallway Superman-style again, then he ran into the gymnasium singing randomly and off pitch. Sam winced as the painful noise reached her magical talking cat ears. She was beginning to wonder why she had bothered to wake up this morning.


Darth Vader had put Mike in charge of decorating the gym. Mike was another Storm Trooper of course, and he was very scared of heights. He was trembling with fear as he climbed a ladder, hanging up the birthday streamers. He was also quite tired because he had just been forced to paint every surface of the room glittery purple. It made his eyes hurt. He was relieved that the birthday streamers were white.


Of course, our favorite Sith, in his sugar-induced lack of sanity, loved it. In fact, he loved it so much he danced around and nearly knocked over Mike's ladder. Mike whimpered with terror and continued to hang up decorations and balloons and other random whatnot.


"You're doing a good job, Mike!" yelled Vader. The ladder was very tall and Mike didn't look down. Oh how he was afraid of heights! He was sweating and his arm had seized up in his terror, but on he went like the diligent soldier he was. Mike was a very good soldier. Admittedly, he was scared of just about everything, but he did his job. He was focussing so hard he almost fell when Vader spoke.


Mike yelped in terror and grabbed onto the top of the ladder in fear. He was never, never, never volunteering for decorating again!


Vader smiled to himself, taking the yelp of terror to be a sign of appreciation. Then he skipped away, forgetting about Sam. Sam was bored, so she decided to amuse herself.


Mike's eyes grew to the size of stop-signs as he watched Sam. The magical talking cat walked calmly over to the ladder, and began to poke it. Every poke caused Mike to tremble and cringe as he tried not to imagine the ladder falling over. He was only eight feet off the floor, sure, but oh how he was afraid of heights! He slowly gathered is terrified nerves and yelled at the cat.


"S-Stop it r-r-right now!" he yelled. Sam continued to poke the ladder and grinned in a very evil talking cattish way.


"Why? Are you scared?" she asked in a whiny, annoying voice. Mike trembled and nodded pitifully. Sam sighed and decided to stop poking the ladder. Anyhow, terrorizing Mike made him work slower. And so, Sam sat about to washing herself again, wondering what the universe would do without her.


Mike, I may add, was quite relieved as he went back to work.

 

Chapter Seven: The Party (Of DOOM!)


Almost everybody had arrived at the party by now. Chris the Storm Trooper was looking around. He didn't want to be at the party, but it was his job to make sure nobody placed unspeakable objects in the punch bowl. It wasn't a very interesting job, but someone had to do it.


Then, out of nowhere, Mike fell from the ceiling and landed in the punch bowl. Chris jumped in alarm and Mike began to cry like a particularly sissy three year old. He had been hanging from the support beam for a while now because John, yet another Storm Trooper with an inexplicable love for painful practical jokes, had stolen the ladder.


Nobody really cared about how Mike was so afraid of heights, but John liked to pick on him. And now he had landed in the punch bowl that Chris was supposed to be guarding. As you may have guessed, Mike was almost as unlucky as Trevor.


Chris was very upset for a moment. Mike, as far as he knew, might qualify as an unspeakable object. So, as duty demanded, he began to chase him. Mike was terrified and everyone watched with amusement as the two ran from the gym yelling at each other, Chris attempting to beat Mike over the head with his gun. Mike was not having a good day. Poor, poor Mike.


Sam the magical talking cat and John gave each other high fives from the other side of the gym. They were quite amused and wondering how the universe would find things funny without them. Magical talking cats who love chaos and Storm Troopers with an inexplicable love for painful practical jokes can be a dangerous combination,


Darth Vader was, at the moment, terrorizing a poor Trooper called Ben. Ben had been sick all day, and therefore had not been at role call, and so Darth Vader was interrogating him.


"What's your favorite color, "Ben" or whoever you really are?" he said suspiciously. Ben was sweating and felt very sick again. He hadn't heard about how Darth Vader had gone psycho today, and was very disturbed. The fact that the Sith was still wearing the rainbow-striped towel as a cape did not help his confusion.

After a few minutes of being argued with about his favorite vegetable, Ben wandered away to throw up.


Luke was trying to figure out if the pizza was poisoned. It was a difficult job because the cheese had melted to the point where it was practically soup, and it was dangerous to touch at such a scalding temperature. He satisfied himself with poking the cheese, then screaming like a little girl, sticking the wounded finger in his mouth for a second, and repeating the process. It took him about twenty times to decide the pizza was not poisonous. However, it was much too hot to eat, so he went off to find something more edible.


Leia was having a discussion with Frederic. In fact, they were arguing about which of the ceiling lights was going to go out first. Two of them had been flickering for a few minutes and the betting had risen to a dangerous level. A few random people had gathered around to watch.


This left Han to his own devices, which is a pretty dangerous thing. He was a little sad that Chewbacca didn't get to come, but it wasn't so bad because he knew that with Chewie around the other rebels wouldn't paint the Millennium Falcon neon pink in his absence. So, he was attempting to enjoy himself.


Han was in a cookie-eating contest with Yoda's ghost. Unfortunately, they were running out of cookies, Han was starting to feel very sick, and Yoda was not showing any signs of slowing down. The cookies tasted horrible and the glittery purple icing hurt everyone's eyes (though, admittedly, it wasn't too bad) so the majority of the party-goers were glad to see them disappearing. Han was pretty sure Yoda was cheating though, the cookies just fell through him after all.


Then there was the matter of Matt and James. They were bored out of their skulls and, being the resident pyromaniacs, wanted to set things on fire. It was against Storm Trooper regulations to catch things on fire at a birthday party though, so they both sat staring sadly at the candles on the top of the birthday cake, wishing they would suddenly plume out into a glorious blaze.


After a few minutes, Obi-Wan and Mace Windu joined them in the trancelike state, wishing about the same thing. Then, James got an idea. He had thought of something to set on fire and was very pleased with himself. He plucked a candle off the cake and snuck away with it. Nobody noticed, and, if they had, they apparently didn't care.


James snuck up behind Darth Vader like a squirrel planning a heist and dropped the candle on the end of his rainbowy towel. Then he crept away wringing his hands in a most evil manner and trying not to start laughing maniacally.


Darth Vader failed to notice this occurrence for several minutes, no matter the fact that everyone he approached pointed, gibbered like an idiot, and ran. Vader was quite puzzled about this for several minutes, not noticing the flames creeping stealthily up his cape. Our helmeted, erm, hero/idiot/Whatever he was finally noticed that he was on fire, he did exactly what his first grade teacher told him to do. Darth Vader screamed like a little girl and ran around uselessly in circles until Matt emptied the punch bowl over him. James was rather disappointed by the disappearance of the lovely fire, but said nothing.


James was quite good at doing nothing. He was skilled at coming up with ways to use the fewest words possible to get a message across, even though it had taken everyone a month to understand his sudden outbursts of "THE KETCHUP BOTTLE IS ON FIRE!" to mean, "ONE OF OUR MAIN SHIPS IS TAKING HEAVY DAMAGE FROM THE REBELS!" Another thing that James was good at, of course, was stretching the truth.


Mace Windu's ghost and Matt were also disappointed. They were so disappointed, in fact, they began to cry. Obi Wan Kenobi's ghost looked around quickly in an attempt to find something to set on fire to make them stop crying, but alas, there were no flammable objects within reach.


Then, the dumbest, most random thing anyone would dare to even imagine happened. Darth Vader, still soaked in punch, jumped up on a table (a new rainbow-striped towel billowing majestically behind him) and made a terrifying announcement.

 

is this Vader acting like a little kid?
I'll have to read this later, it seems like the kind of wat I'd like
also yay, Chad Vader appears

 

Yes, this is Vader acting like a hyperactive little kid because he ate a sugar cookie

 

Please post more if you have it.

 

This is all I have, I think an ending was posted elsewhere if I remember from back in the day, but I can't find it

 

Well that sucks. Sorry for bothering you.

 

Nah, it's fine dude, I am pretty disappointed to