Son of the Emperor

I was sittin’ on the edge of the access tube fixin' up the hyperdrive on the Falcon, just like usual, when she came onboard. Now, mind you, I don't care if my friends and family just come waltzing on without askin' - you know, Leia, Luke and maybe Lando, if I'm in a real good mood. But I'd never met this woman before. She had long, light gray hair that looked like it hadn’t seen a comb in five or six years, and appeared to be around sixty years old or so, thin and tall, and wearing the strangest assortment of clothes I’d seen in quite a while.  Loose fitting purple silk top and orange and black striped slacks, with a gold cape that hung all the way to the floor.  And to top it all off, a big red hat that stuck up like a chimney, and it had tassels hangin’ off the bottom edge.  Looked like she stole it off a lamp.  I’m gonna have to apologize to Calrissian next time I see him for all the times I insulted his taste in outfits.  This lady put him to shame.  Before I could even ask her who she was, and what the hell she was doin' on my ship, she starts tellin' me this really bizarre story. "Han Solo," she says in a real deep, man-like voice as she looked down at me. "You're my long-lost son."

I've been gettin' a lot of that lately. Try being married to a famous Princess-turned-Rebel Hero-turned-Chief-of-State. The loons just come crawling outta the ground like pinchbugs. Gotta tell ya, I don't like bugs too much. And I didn't like this woman, either. So I told her to get lost, cause she was buggin' me, but she only laughed. "You've been the lost-one, my son," she informed me, like it was my fault, somehow. "I had to leave you, or he would have found you."

"He?" I asked, annoyed. She was very annoying, just so you completely understand this.

"My husband. Palpatine. He wasn't always evil, you know. Once he was a cute baby, and a handsome young man."

I rolled my eyes at this statement. "My wife's father is Darth Vader, and now you're tellin' me my daddy is the baddest Sith that ever lived?"

"Yes." The funny part is, she seemed to actually believe her own story.

Once again, I tell her to go find some other idiot to scam. I'm too busy to deal with crazy people.

"You have the Force, my son," she tells me, not budging. It looks like I'm gonna have to call Chewie over, and have him pick her up an' toss her out.

"The Force?" I questioned, tryin' not to laugh. "You mean, like Luke and my wife?"

"Stronger," she tells me. "Faster. Better."

For some reason, a guy runnin' slow-motion flashes through my brain, but I discount that quickly. "Sure, mommy dearest."

"So you believe me?"

"Of course," I said, just to make her go away. "A good son always believes his mommy."

"I'm so glad to hear that," she says, as she pulls out some round, glowing red ball-like object. "Now I can finally restore your powers."

This gets my attention, and I stand up, backing away. Things that glow red have always been bad omens, in my humble opinion. For instance, evil lightsabers glow red, right? So I tell her to put the weapon down, and back out slowly, and I won't have to blast her.

"This apple contains your Force-powers, my son," the woman replies, ignoring my warning. "All you have to do is take one bite, and your Force-abilities will return. Faster. Stronger. Better."

"You already said that," I remind her, shaking my head to get that guy runnin' in slow-motion out of my brain. "I ain't eating that...apple. Besides, ain't red a Sith color, like Vader's lightsaber was?"

She seemed to think this was funny for some odd reason, and she laughed. And laughed. And kept laughing, like those crazy clown-heads you see in nightmarish amusement carnivals that scare the poo-doo outta little kids. Not that those laughing clown-heads ever scared me when I was a kid. They didn't... quit lookin' at me like that! Anyway, I told her to shut up, and then she started crying! Women! So, real nice like, I tried to get her to leave my ship, and that's when she shoved that damned apple in my mouth, and I took a big, juicy bite before I could stop myself.

Next thing I knew, I was flying backwards across the hold, and ended up sittin' on my butt, gasping for air. I don't know how long I sat there, drooling and staring off into nothingness, but when I looked up, Chewie was standing over me, askin' how come I was takin' a nap in the middle of the day. So I asked him where my mother went, since she didn't seem to be around anymore, and he started laughing at me, just like that crazy woman was laughing! Kinda made me mad, I gotta say. Before I knew what was happening, lightning bolts came flyin' outta my fingers, and threw poor Chewie clear through the wall of the ship. Just like that, my best friend was deader than a hydro-clamp, an' all because of a glowing red apple and the apparent fact that my daddy was the Evil Emperor.   I would’ve felt bad, ‘cept Chewie shouldn’t have laughed at me like that.

My day went downhill after that.

You remember when Luke went all Dark Side, and my youngest son Anakin was born? And I seem to remember that I ended up killing the Emperor with my blaster, even though he was supposed to have died a long, long time ago when he fell down a reactor shaft right before the second Death Star blew up into a million bits. You wouldn't think they'd have put all those really important details in a comic book, would you? But I digress. What I'm tryin' to get at here is I KILLED MY OWN FATHER! Me, Han Solo, son of Palpatine, KILLED MY OWN FATHER! If that ain't enough to drive someone to the Dark Side, I don't know what is. And since my father was Han Palpatine (don't argue with me. If I had to name my youngest after my wife's Sithly father, my father's name COULD'VE been Han) I figured I was destined to be the new Ruler of the galaxy, whether the beings of the galaxy wanted me to Rule, or not.

So I decided to go home, and tell the little woman I was takin' over the galaxy. Can't say that went over too good, either.

"WHAT?" the little woman yelled at me.

"My daddy was Emperor Palpatine, and now that I have my Dark Side mojo back, I'm takin' over control of this here galaxy," I informed her. Firmly.

"You. Can't. Be. Serious," she says. Just like that, too, with big hesitations between all her words.

So I told her I was completely serious, and she'd have to get used to the idea. But I wanted to be a KING, instead of an Emperor. Seems like a promotion to me. This, however, only made my wife mad, and she called me a nerf-header again. That was ONE TIME TOO MANY! I picked her up, threw her across my shoulder, hauled her up to the highest tower on Coruscant, and using the Force, sealed her into the room. You should have heard her yellin' at me through that door. A Princess really shouldn't use that kind of language. The only way to get outta that room was through a little window, and I figured since she didn't have any rope, there was no way she was going anywhere.

My next plan was to find myself a nice throne and a crown. On a planet as big as Coruscant, you'd think you could find those two little things, but NOOO. Not one lousy furniture store carried thrones, and not one stupid jewelry store carried crowns! Tiaras, yes... crowns, no! How unfair and sexist is that, I ask you? Fortunately I remembered there was this fast-food place where, if you buy some of their cold, greasy food, they give you a gold crown made outta flimsy. I guess that'll have to do for the time being. And my old Lounge-Lizard recliner will have to make do for my throne. I just told Threepio he'd better decorate it up for me real nice-like. Do you know glitter doesn't stick to cloth real good? Well, let me be the first to tell you - it doesn't.

There I was... sitting on my throne, an' waving my wife's lightsaber around when my busy-body brother-in-law bursts in the room, demanding to know what happened to Leia. So I told him she was indisposed, which was the truth, from a certain point-of-view.

"Put the lightsaber down, Han," he says to me, tryin' to use that Force garbage on my mind.

Ha! Little does he know... I'm better, faster and STRONGER in the Force than any Skywalker ever was, or is. I tell him this, too.

"Han... this isn't your fault," Luke tells me, trying to trick me. "There was an accident while you were working on the hyperdrive. The explosion must have affected your memory."

I can see why my father wiped out the Jedi. They're irritating, know-it-all's. I jumped up, and attacked Luke with my lightsaber, slashing away. I gotta admit the kid's got some talent. He ignited his own lightsaber, and blocked my blows, and before I knew it, my lightsaber went flyin' off. Lucky break. "Now ya did it," I told him. "I'm gonna have to fry ya with Force-lightning, just like I did Chewie." Course, that was a mistake, but I'm not telling Luke that.

"Han, you can't shoot Force-lightning out of your fingers," Luke tries convincing me. "And Chewie was hit with the same electrical current as you were. He's in a bacta tank right now, and he'll be fine."

"LIAR!" I shouted. "I killed Chewie with the Force! After my mother gave me a magic apple to eat."

"What's an apple?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "But it was mighty juicy and sweet, and gave me lots of power."

"HAN SOLO!" It was the sweet sound of my little wife, yelling right behind me.

I swung around to face her, and asked, "How did you escape from your prison tower?"

"Prison tower?" she screeches. For such a little woman, she sure has a big voice. "It was the REFRESHER! You locked me in the REFRESHER!"

Before I could argue this detail, Luke jumps on me from behind, tackling me to the ground. At this point, it's apparent that the apple mojo has worn off, 'cuz I really lost that fight, big-time.

When I woke up, I was locked up in a small, padded room, and a weird doctor came in. He tried to tell me I wasn't Han Palpatine's son, and I didn't have the Force. After a long time, I finally agreed with him, just so he'd let me go free.

But I know the truth. I just need another bite of that apple.

THE END