The Bar.

Anyway, I get back to my room and two hours later weird pig-fuck is banging his . . well, I don’t know what it’s called, but he’s bangin’ it on my door! So anyway, he says the boss wants me on the yacht. So, I get my shit out of the dryer, throw on my gear, and head to the docks.

We board the yacht and head out. It’s fuckin’ hot, though! This gear is hot! I need new, cooler, clothes. My head fuckin’ hurts man! I head to the top deck. Usually, ther’re some mostly naked babes up there soakin’ up some rays. Unfortunately, all I see is that stupid blue robot. Still, he’s got a few cocktails, so I grab a bloody mary and check out the view.

Off to the port side there’s a skiff with some prisoners on board and some of the boss’ goons. So It’s an execution. What the hell do they need to wake my ass out of bed for this crap for? So my vision clears a bit and I can see that it’s that megalomaniac that showed up the night before and it’s that score that I made for the boss. . .The big dollar score. . . He’s walkin’ around, though, so that’s weird, but they are there and they are about to walk the plank.

So I find a nice lounge char and sit back with my mary when I hear some commotion. Of course, being a man of action, I jump up to see what’s going on. Well holy crap, this prisoner is now runnin’ around on this skiff with a sword and just kickin’ everyone’s ass. My guy (i.e. my payday) is sorta’ just standin’ there, swinging some piece of metal randomly, and HE’s even knocking guards off the boat! Last I heard the guy was blind, so this is looking pretty bad for the boss.

Well, I figure, OK, I can take out this poser and his pals so I fire up the jetpack and coast my ass over there. Problem is, I’m in midair and I realize. Shit! I’m still drunk! I manage to land, but now I’m like two feet in front of the dude with the sword!. Still, I gotta try, but it’s way too late and by the time I draw my gun the dude just slices it in half! So I step back and the fight moves on to the other guards and folks who still have weapons.

But. . . they don’t know .. . I have a wrist rocket! HA! I line up my sights . . .prepare my shot. . . And BAM! My jetpack malfunctions.

Next thing I know, I’m flyin’ through the air, totally out of control. Well, I don’t know if you know this, but totally out of control with a jetpack generally means: straight into something hard. And that’s pretty much the case here. I slam into the side of the yacht, then straight down, into the dirt and into a roll. then I black out.

You know the feeling of waking up in a strange place? Like when you pass out on your buddy’s couch, and wake up and you’re like: “Where the hell am I?” Well, that’s pretty much the feeling I had when I woke up in the freaking belly of the Sarlac monster. It was a bit of a shock.

Still, I pulled myself together and assessed the situation. .

“Hey Blag”

“Hey Boba, we’re screwed, huh?”

“Not sure, probably. Who else is down here?”

“Slac, Flub, Blatabarstanab freeskinner”.

“What happened to plofo? I saw him fall down here?.”

“I think he’s around here somewhere, not sure where.”.

I sat down on a pile of sand. “So what was that line of bull that Jabba was spewin’ about 1000 years? That’s totally stupid. Now make me suffer for 3 years, that’s scary. 1000? that’s just stupid.“

“agreed, but I’d prefer no years . . .if it was up to me”.

“Ok, so how do we get out of this mess?”

“Well”, said Blag, “We could start blasting the hell out of the walls of this thing, Maybe it’ll spit us out?”

“HA HA HA, YOU WILL ALL PERISH IN MY BELLY! HAHAHA!”

“What in the flying crap was that!?” said Blag.

“Hey, Sarlac beast, what’ so great about you?” I asked.

“I AM THE GREAT SARLAC, I WILL SLOWLY CONSUME YOU OVER A THOUSAND YEARS!”

“blah blah blah. That’s BS, Mr. Sarlac. We’ll be dead in a week. . . .Is that you’re name? the great sarlac? Come on, who named you that, what’s your real name?

"HMM. MY REAL NAME. NOBODY HAS EVER ASKED ME MY REAL NAME BEFORE. . . MY REAL NAME IS .. .. . . .. BLATABASTARDSLACAFALAC the THIRTY-THIRD."

“Well, my friend, that is indeed an interesting name. I can call you blatabastardslacafalac, if you’d prefer, but it would be easier for me if I could call you ‘Blat’, would that be Ok with you?

“ . . . OK.”

“So Blat. Are you hungry?”

“WHO ISN’T?”

“Let me ask you a question. What’s you’re favorite food. . . .wait! Let me guess . . Is it Human?”

(SIGH): . . “NO”.

“hmm. . .Sandperson?”

“NO”

“droid?”

“ HA. . . NO”

“ Other Sarlacs?”

“NO NO HAHA”

“Well, that leaves pretty much two sources of fatty foods on this planet. Huts and Banthas.”

“EVEN I FIND HUTS DISGUSTING, NO THANKS”.

“Banthas then.”

“BANTHAS ARE GOOD, CAN’T REALLY COMPLAIN ABOUT BANTHAS”.

“How many do you need?”

“WELL. .. .ABOUT ONE A WEEK. . .I GUESS.”

“Anything else? You speak. You’re intelligent, don’t you get bored just being . . .well, . . a mouth.? How ‘bout some books on tape or something?

“DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT IT’S LIKE TO LIVE YOUR WHOLE LIFE AS A MOUTH, WAITING FOR SOMEONE TO FALL INTO IT?

“Actually, No, I don’t but, As a man, with the ability. . . usually. . . to travel and move and with the freedom that I . . . usually. . . have. I can imagine your frustration, being intelligent, but not very mobile.”

“YES! YOU SEEM TO UNDERSAND WHAT MY LIFE IS LIKE. CAN YOU HELP ME?”

“Honestly . . . I don’t know if I can help you get free, but. . . .If you let me and my friends out of here, I can certainly bring you a few banthas.”

“I WILL LET YOU GO, MR BOBA, BUT YOUR FRIENDS MUST STAY AND SLOWLY BE DIGESTED OVER A THOUSAND YEARS. FOR EACH BANTHA YOU BRING, I’LL LET ONE OF YOUR FRIENDS GO FREE”.

“Cool”.

So that’s how I escaped the Almighty Sarlac.

In case you’re wondering, I did bring a bantha or two back to Mr. Sarlac.