Back when I was a humble musician living on the streets of Corellia – good lord, can it really have been ten years ago?!? – I never dreamed I’d become a “person of interest” to the Empire, and I sure as hell wouldn’t have guessed I’d have a spaceship to lose, much less spend countless weeks trying to capture the jackoff that stole it and feed him his own testicles via his anus. But that’s what happens when you become addicted to spice, become a smuggler for a guild of bloodthirsty maniacs working for an extremely intimidating Twi’lek who proclaims herself “Queen of the Motherfucking Universe”, somehow manage to get evicted from the selfsame guild for “inappropriate behavior” (please don’t ask, it’s better if that episode stay buried in the past), end up hustling in the swampy nether regions of the galaxy, run out of money, manage to kick the drug habit, and subsequently gain sixty pounds. Well, maybe that’s not what happens to everybody else, but it’s what happened to me.
So how did I end up in this mess? I asked that question of myself every day, as I humped my sweaty, out-of-shape ass all over the tortured landscape of Ord Mantell. See, I was just making a normal run; I may not smoke it myself anymore, but I still deal spice. The profit margin is high and it’s always in demand. What I wasn’t expecting was for there to be an entire goddamn planet-wide war going on. What can I say? I don’t keep up on the news of shitholes like that, although I guess I probably should if I’m about to land there. Anyway, no sooner do I park the Handy Donkey (that’s my ship; my friend A’yed Jurmom called it that one day, and the name stuck) when this kid with filthy dreadlocks and facial scars comes running up to me, raving about Separatists – called himself Corso.
Next thing I know, I’m found myself agreeing to run errands for pretty much everybody within shouting distance. I kinda had no choice – I wasn’t going to be able to fly the old bird off-world until the turrets were brought down, and that meant I had to kill people. I’m not particularly averse to killing, especially assholes, and these guys were definitely assholes. I’m not going to lie, I fight dirty. Whenever I get the chance, I like to kick people in the nuts. Some people – macho douchebags, mostly – say this is a cowardly tactic, but a quick tap in the fork and they go down, too. What can I say? It happens to be very effective. Doesn’t work so well on Rodians, though; little bug-fuckers. Did you know those guys don’t have nipples? Never trust somebody who doesn’t have nipples, and definitely don’t have sex with one. You’ll never live it down, no matter how black-out drunk and geeked out on spice you might have been at the time.
So I get done doing everything that a bunch of highly trained and heavily armed soldiers can’t be bothered to do because they’re too busy cowering behind chunks of building, and I make it back just in time to watch this greasy fuck with goofy face tattoos steal the Donkey. Corso starts whining about his goddamn blaster, and I was about to unleash my foot on his smuggled goods when the ship thief – Skavak – decides that stealing my ride isn’t enough, he also has to send a snarky message to the kid’s hololink. Everything about this guy screams, “Slap me”.
So Corso takes me back to his employer, a fat old man whose name I can’t be bothered to remember. All I know is that he was in deep with a criminal named Rogun, and all you needed to do is mention the guy’s name, and fatty wets his pants and crawls under a table. Pathetic. Every time I talked to the guy, he was either eating or crying.
He had a very attractive assistant by the name of Syreen; we got quite friendly, too, and I was sure I had an in until I learned that she was porking the old guy. Money talks, I guess. Anybody who can afford to eat an entire Rancor steak meal every day has to be rolling in some serious credits. She wore too much makeup anyway, and later on she turned out to be a real bitch.
So again, I become a glorified courier for this guy, and somehow get caught up in the war as a result. I’m not even going to bore you with the details… most of the time I was just trying not to get blown up or thrown into molten lava – yeah, there was ACTIVE VOLCANO there, and some folks thought that was a smart idea to set up a base camp literally twenty feet away from it. These people are so stupid I think I actually lost a few IQ points just dealing with them.
There was this one guy, though… hah, this guy… okay, so he’s holed up in a burnt-out building with no less than three women. I’m pretty sure he was feeding them spice, because they were sort of listless and glassy-eyed. In fact, he might have been my intended buyer. But never mind that… this guy is literally in the middle of an active military zone, and he’s just chilling in this house, boning chicks and smoking deathsticks. What a pimp.
So after running around like an asshole for close to two weeks, I single-handledly shut down the Separatists entire operation and take out all their leaders, only to return to find the old man is dead at the hands of Syreen, who has been working for Skavak (who she was also boning), and who tries to play dumb when Corso and I catch her red-handed as Skavak kicks her to the curb over the hololink. Even for a cold-hearted bitch like her, that’s still kind of a weak move; I felt bad for her. I let it slide, on the basis that she might be useful in the future, and also because she offered me free passage off this awful planet. Plus I thought maybe I still had a shot at tapping that shit.
Now I’m on Coruscant. I can never really get used to this planet. The whole thing is a city. THE WHOLE FUCKING PLANET. There’s something like one trillion people living here. Do you have any conception of how many people that is? Of course you don’t, your brain isn’t even equipped to deal with that kind of information; you might as well try to count to infinity. A trillion is an absurdly large number of anything, much less people. If a woman tried to suck every single penis on Coruscant, one after another, 24 hours a day, for her entire life, she would die an old woman before she got done with even 1/1000th of one percent. That’s a LOT of dicks.
Sorry, Coruscant always makes me a little poetical. Something about the scale of the place gets my head spinning, and the next thing you know, I’m staring off into the never-ending skyline, pondering the imponderable.
But, as Corso keeps reminding me, I’ve got work to do if I’m going to get my ship back. See ya’ next time!