Mom, Dad,
Welp, I guess I’m fired. Thanks a lot, Luke Skywalker. That battlestation was fully operational! And just like that – poof. And no, I’m not some Gen Z’r blameshifting. Or maybe I am. I still refuse to believe this is totally my fault. Shouldn’t my Imperial sergeant have been a little more attentive in his duties? Just saying.
I didn’t want to take this job anyway. I was hoping to find something that actually paid, so I could have a little spending money to hit up Mos Eisley Cantina on the weekends. But, you guys were all like, “We didn’t send you to Imperial St. University for you to graduate and not find some type of work experience.”
Geez, Mom and Dad, I get it! I’ll just go jump into the Almighty Sarlacc, where my body can slowly be digested over the course of a thousand years.
Yes, maybe I should have paid more attention in Holographics Transmission 101. Then I’d have known to double check my Flux Messenger ListServe. Instead, I sent those battlestation blueprints to the leader of the Rebellion and got us further entrenched and weakened our position in an intergalactic war. Sorry, not sorry, I’m 19.
Plus, I was flirting with this smokeshow from Alderaan and I’m almost positive her dad has some connections further up the ladder. Doesn’t networking mean anything to you? I can always throw away my education and become a stormtrooper and fall off a ledge after being shot by a blaster, if that’s what you want.
I guess I apologize. To ya’ll and to the Empire. But me and the boys are gonna zip over to the Hoth System to do some snowboarding and have some blue milk for Apres Ski. If Lord Vader comes looking for me, tell him I’m already dead.
