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J. Jonah Jerkson
Mon May 30, 2005 at 09:31:43 pm EDT
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The Baroness, Part 30: Visionary Idylls
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The Baroness, Part 30
Visionary Idylls


The last of the Junior League tour group had left (Elizabeth had thought that only an impromptu tracheotomy would stop Adele Jerkson from gushing on) and the Baroness had retreated to her suite to relax in the hot tub. As she sank into the rushing water and scented suds, she returned to her daydreaming:

Standing high and alone in the center of the Republic’s Senate Chamber, Senator Elizabeth Zemo humbly accepted the cheers of the cowed remnants of the Republic acclaiming her as Empress of the Galaxy. Even as the fools cheered at the passing of the Republic, her minions were insuring that it would never rise again, as general order 66 – massacre of the Jedi – was being executed galaxy-wide. Finally, exhilarated by her successful coup, the new Empress retired to the Chancellor’s quarters, directly under the chamber, only to be confronted by Anakin Skywalker, the rogue Jedi who had betrayed Palpatine at the last instant.
“You won’t get away with this,” the young knight said in the whiny monotone that would forever disqualify him as a credible actor. “I don’t need to get away with anything,” she replied. “I get what I want and I stay where I am. You, on the other hand, young Skywalker, run around and around like a hamster, and get more and more confused.”

“I do not!”

“Do so!”

“Do not! Anyway, I’m here because you keep popping up in my dreams.”

“Me? Instead of your darling wife, the secret that will destroy your career as a Jedi knight?”

“How did you know that?

“The Dark Side of the Force, Anakin, not only can influence weak minds – it can drain them. Just like I am draining yours now.”

“Wait! We were supposed to have this big fight, with light sabers and energy bolts and big dramatic revelations!”

“You expect a Zemo to fight fair? In thirty seconds Senator Padme’ will be wiped from your mind, and you will be my new boy toy, Darth Vader.”

“But what about my, my, whatever they are’s? She’s going to die!”

“Only in your dreams, dear.”

“I feel like a zombie now – can’t remember anything.”

“Who could tell the difference.”

And so the Empress sent the young Darth Vader to eliminate every pocket of resistance to her decrees. Unfortunately, the young man got himself vulcanized while going after one last Jedi knight, and was returned to the Empress in black mask and cowl, body armored as well. The new Darth Vader stomped into the Empress’s reception hall/hot tub room, wheezing behind his mask.

“Your reign of terror is over, Zemo! Now I, Darth Vader, true Dark Lord of the Sith, will overthrow the female usurper and subject the universe to a grip of iron!”

“Really, Darthie? I’d ask you to come over here and share the hot tub with us, but you’d probably sink before you could get that armor off. Oooh, Randy, I like that. Do it again, harder please?”

Impatiently, the Dark Lord raised his hand to do his remote choke and heart attack schtick. With exaggerated nonchalance, Empress Elizabeth raised her hand also and flicked a small green capsule toward the lowering Lord. It struck his mask and disintegrated into a cloud of green and yellow powder.

“You die -- cough, cough, wheeze, hack, hack,” Darth Vader struggled.

“Just a little Zemo Pollen Package, darling,” explained Elizabeth. “Asthma must be such a terrible problem for you.”

“Cough, cough, wheeze, hack, retch, gasssp,” replied Vader.

“Take him to the cyborgization dungeon,” the Empress ordered the entering Imperial storm troopers, “and be sure that they make the alterations to his groin area that I specified. I want some fun with him when he gets back.”

And, indeed, the Empress did get some fun out of Darth Vader when he was returned from the shop, although he was never quite as good company as Randy, or Sally and Lance.

Meanwhile, though, on the desert planet of Halloween, a young man named Visionary was searching for some missing robots when he was ambushed by Sand People. Slowly returning to consciousness, he found himself looking into the eyes of an eccentric, English-looking older man with pronounced whiskers.

“Ben? Ben Kenobi? You saved me again?” said Visionary.

“Not quite, lad, not quite. Wilton, Mumphrey Wilton, that’s the name. Had another run-in with those bounders, didn’t you?”

“Well, Mr. WiltonMumphreyWilton, I guess I did. Thank you for saving me, and returning those droids I was looking for.”

“Nothing to it, don’t you know. Quite. And you can call me Mumph. But we have more important things to look at, rather. These droids have information that could save the rebellion against Empress Zemo, and you’re going to help me take them to Alderbran.”

“Why me? I mean, I hate the Empress, especially after she ordered everybody to wear purple once a week, but I’m just a farmer.”

“Because your father, er, your possibly real father, was a Jedi knight, and you may be the one to carry on his destiny. – or perhaps not, depending, quite.”

“I knew I had a real father! This proves I’m real!”

“Let’s not be too hasty there. But anyway,you are coming with me, lad, to be trained as a Jedi knight – or be maimed or killed in the attempt.”

“Maimed? Killed?”

“Nothing to it. Now let’s shove along, we have to get to Mos Eisely and do a few comic relief scenes and give the storm troopers a chance to miss us 5,675 times or so, what?”

“Storm troopers?”

While the Baroness’s Star Wars daydream was flowing on, a different idyll was coming to its end in Baron Otto’s dank dungeons far below.

“Otto, that was marvelous. You have made me feel like a woman for the first time. But we can never do this again, never.”

“But why, my edelweiss flower?”

“Because it’s wrong, just wrong. We are lovers from two different worlds, and my world will never, never accept you. And yours is too unspeakable to contemplate. No, my darling, we must say good-bye to each other for eternity, holding this brief, brilliant moment of sacred passion in our hearts to light our miserable existences until we die, and are separated for infinity in my heaven and your hell.”

“You mean we will not be reunited, even in the afterlife?” Baron Otto growled.

“Well, you’re already in the afterlife, and I’m certain that my afterlife won’t be anything like this. Even with this awful sin on my record, I know that as a member of the First Calvinist Church of Salvation, when it is my time, I will be received by choirs of angels clad in white, with seraphim blowing triumphant trumpet fanfares, as I enter a heaven of purity, glory and absolutely no passion whatsoever.”

“You would give me up for mere eternal salvation?”

“Of course. That has been the goal of my entire loveless, cranky and embittered life.”

“But, liebling, I must tell you what no one else knows. For sixty years, no one has made me feel like a man. Not one single party girl, camp follower, hired companion or necrophiliac. No one – until you. I cannot let you leave me as a passionless hulk for the rest of my un-life.”

“Oh, Otto, how sweet. But it will never be. For the sake of my family, for the sake of my immortal soul, for the sake of my reputation and social status, this love can never be. Ah, parting is such sweet sorrow, but Otto – adieu!” And Agnes Wooster, pulling her dress up from her knees, nevertheless majestically swept toward the stairway.

Meanwhile, in Elizabeth's daydream, Darth Vader entered the Empress’s hot tub room.

“Welcome, Lord Vader. As always, you appear to be excited to meet me.”

“I think that has more to do with the hydraulics you added to my armor and the Viagra spray that always greets me when I arrive here, your Majesty.”

“Mmmm, that was the general idea. But we will not dally together this day. My master plan is coming to fruition; the rebels are placing their trust in a Jedi acolyte called Visionary, who can’t hit a barn door with a light saber. Now take your forces to the Death Star, capture this Visionary, and bring him to me.”

“You aren’t going to dally with him, are you? Not when you have me, six feet four, full of the Dark Side of the Force, and hydraulically enhanced.”

“Do not question me, Lord Vader, lest you find out what hay fever really means. Now leave us.”

“Huff, wheeze, ratzin-fratzing, wheeze, huff.”


* * *

Back on the smuggler’s ship Millennium Falcon, Visionary was undergoing his first training as a Jedi knight. “Those burns will heal in no time at all, young Visionary, although I’m not sure that the hair will regrow,” Mumph reassured his protegé.

“Marvelous. I’ll be the only Jedi with a reverse Mohawk,” Visionary mumbled as he unsuccesfully tried to block another shot with his light saber.

“All right, you have the idea, don’t you know. Now put on this helmet with the visor down and try to block the shots.”

“How can I do that? whined Visionary.

“A true Jedi can use the Jarvis Force,” replied his whiskered mentor. “Everything makes waves in the Jarvis Force, especially Lisa. Open your mind, and you will perceive them.”

“Hey, I’ve heard about Lisa. Does being a Jedi and using the Jarvis Force mean that I get to meet her?”

“Be careful what you wish for, young Jedi, what? All right, let’s start the remote again.”

“Ouch! Yipe!”

“Open your mind, young Visionary –“

Zap! Zorch! Preee-ow! “His mind may be open, old-timer, but there may be nothing in it,” Captain Falcon remarked.

“Could be, could be,” Mumph agreed.

The Empress, forewarned about the possibility of a possibly fake Jedi, had taken steps to foil his quest by blowing up planet Alderbran before he got there, but the Death Star snatches up the Millenium Falcon. “Wow, that was a neat trick fogging those storm troopers’ minds to let us off the ship, Mumph.”

“A mere bagatelle for an experienced Jedi. Now you stay here and don’t do anything stupid like trying to rescue the imprisoned princess, and I’ll take out the tractor beams. Cheerio. ”

“Hey, Falcon, now that he’s gone, let’s go rescue the princess.”

“No way, kid. Sir Mumphrey knows what he’s doing.”

“Sir Mumphrey? He really is a knight?”

“Yup.”

"Then we can't go after the princess?

"Yup."

"Whew."

And so we miss the exciting but absurd rescue of the princess and all the yucky garbage compactor scenes. The princess, after all, isn’t in the detention block; she’s ladling extra whipped cream on Darth Vader’s . . . enhancements while she looks around for a whip or two. Finally, Darth Vader escapes the princess, and feeling a bit drained, encounters Sir Mumphrey.

“Well, hack, wheeze, my old mentor, we meet, gasp, gasp, again, wheeze, huff.”

"Anakin, my boy, you sound as if you're spendin' too much time with Lisa, what? Have you tried oysters?"

"Gasp, wheeze, huff. "She's no match for me." Several lights start flashing on his armor and a warning klaxon is heard. "Just need to catch my cough, wheeze, hack, breath. Anyway, Sir Mumphrey, it is time to end your miserable existence. En garde!" Darth Vader unsheathes his crimson light saber and we hear the ominous hum.

Sir Mumphrey fumbles around. “I know I have that light saber here somewhere. Cigar cutter, pocket watch, key to the club annexe, spare garter, but deuce, no light saber, eh?“

“You grow old and weak, Sir Mumphrey. Stand still, and I will be merciful.”

“Strike me down, Darth Vader, and I will become more powerful than you can possibly imagine.”

“Nonsense.” And Darth Vader brought his light saber down on Sir Mumphrey Wilton with all his might. That is, until a brief time stop interrupted his blow, and Sir Mumphrey shed his outer robes.

“There, well rid of that Arab kit, what? Now, back to HQ and that Bautista transdimensional radio transmitter linked to the receiver in Visionary’s skull.”

* * *

“Gee, I get my own Tie fighter to fly, even though I don’t even have a license for landspeeders? I wonder what this button does?” Visionary asked.

Cheeow – fratz – yowlz – zappp – zlorch!

“He’s taken out half of the squadron – in the hangar bay!”

“Here, mount this Arr-too unit, maybe it will keep him out of trouble.”

Weebly-woot-woot-reeyow-bleep!

“He says, ‘Are you crazy? Get me out of here!”

“Quiet, C-3P1,” Visionary ordered. “Aw, what a cute robot. Don’t worry, you’ll be safe with me.”

Ree-zeet-plup-beeely!

“’No one will ever find that definition of “safe” in a dictionary,’” translated C-3P1.

After a swirling, balletically choreographed dogfight in outer space, all of the Rebel Alliance’s Tie fighters have been destroyed except for Visionary’s. He’s in the trench, bobbing and weaving, trying to evade Vader and his evil comrades as he prepares to fire the last-ditch photon torpedoes to destroy the Death Star. Back at Rebel headquarters, Princess Lisa and the Rebel command are hoping against hope.

“Visionary’s disengaged computer aiming!”

“Death Star in range in twenty seconds!”

“It’s hopeless, we’re going to die!”

“USE THE JARVIS FORCE, VISIONARY. BELIEVE IN THE FORCE, WHAT?”

“Mumph? Is that you? I thought you were dead?”

“No, just on holiday on Ibiza, don't you know. A little more to the left, m'dear.”

Kerpow, Zam!!

“They’ve hit Arr-Too! I’m losing control!”

“TRUST IN THE FORCE, VISIONARY. And Renata, another sangria, please.”

“Sounds good to me,” as the possibly fake Jedi mashed all of the weapons firing switches at once.

Back at base:

“He launched five seconds early!”

“Without aim control!”

“Right into the shields!”

“We’re gonna die!”

Back at Imperial HQ:

“Hee, hee, hee,” said Empress Elizabeth, stroking her cat.

However, just as the Death Star came into range, a mysterious leotard-clad figure appeared inside the Rebel headquarters, jetéing and pirouetting.

“Hi, I’m the Probability Dancer, and I just thought I’d drop by.”

“Now what are the chances of having a Herald of Galactivac drop in just as we are about to be annihilated by the Death Star?”

“Pretty wild, I’d say,” the dark-haired sylph replied. “But not as wild as this.” She pointed to the display, which showed Visionary’s errant photon torpedoes bouncing from one Death Star shield to another in a manner reminiscent of a crazed pinball machine. “One million to one . . . two million . . . ooh, he got one of the fighters, forty-four million to one, seventy million to one, our boy’s racking up the improbabilities here, 107 million to one, and into the hole – bingo!”

And the Death Star exploded into smithereens as Visionary’s errant shot finally caromed into the exhaust vent.

“Hurray! Our hero!”

And Visionary, the possibly fake Jedi, was feted as the savior of the Rebellion.

Meanwhile, back at Imperial Headquarters:

“I have failed you, my Empress. My life stands forfeit.”

“I'd rather take him out myself anyway. Just pump up those hydraulics a little more, and take off that silly helmet, Darthie, and all will be forgiven.”

Playing the part of Baroness Elizabeth Zemo:

J. Jonah Jerkson
VOICE OF THE PEOPLE


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