As my Sith apprentices towards filthy Jedi run,
the fighters rolled to avoid explosions, they appeared to have fun!
Down to the exhaust trench they flew,
with bays full of torpedoes and Wookie Claus too.
“Ha ha!” I cackled as the corridors they sped betwixt,
“That design flaw you seek, it has been fixed!”
I transmitted this mockingly in the clear,
the better their hopeless cries I might hear.
With a sudden twist, they looped backwards then dove,
deep within the structure of my weapon, then nimbly wove
their way through the guts of my fully functional battle station,
suddenly foreboding gripped me and left my twisted face ashen.
“Vader”, I rasped, then remembered he’d left,
his ill-timed vacation had left me bereft.
My crimson robed guards, they stood there all silent,
and I remembered too late that they weren’t all that violent.
Everything up till now had transpired by my design,
the upcoming battle would be far from benign.
But Wookie Claus’s presence I had not foretold,
my vengeance on Kashyyyk would be returned tenfold!
In anger I yelled for my guards to “Leave us!”,
then grew nostalgic for Hanukah Grievous.
His coughing was tiresome, his aim poor in fights,
but his antics were confined to a mere eight crazy nights.
Almost instantly I heard some explosions and blasts,
near my room, not via broadcasts.
I pulled in my cloak, and was spinning around,
when through the vent duct, Wookie Claus dropped with a bound.
He was covered in fur, from his ears to his foot,
and his holiday clothes were all tarnished with blastmarks and soot.
A bowcaster he’d bound securely to his back,
and he looked like a Toydarian as he opened his pack.
With a thundering roar, he began to speak,
but my Wookie language skills… well, they were quite weak.
So I pulled out my lightsaber but stood attentively,
he spoke and purred while I watched semi-blankly.
Then he handed my something, I flinched back in fear,
when what to my wondering eyes should appear,
but a gift, a box, a package of goods.
I opened it up and was transported right back to my childhood.
Instead of the thermal detonator I had guessed I’d receive,
it was a statue of my Death Star, just in time for my tree.
I held it in wonder, my eyes they were sparkling,
my plans of galactic domination I began parking.
Perhaps I would wait, and first speak with Vader’s son,
instead of executing him in my dungeon.
I had planned on a death, quick and neat and efficient,
but the glow of the ornament, it was indeed quite brilliant.
“Thank you, Wookie Claus, for the clarity you bring,
this decision to kill Skywalker had left me aching.
His force abilities, were they properly applied,
would fulfill his destiny as he took his father’s place by my side”.
He spoke no more words, but went straight to his work.
He charged up my blasters, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his furred finger aside his huge honkin’ nose,
he barked briefly, then on the turbolift he rose.
I saw him jump into his freighter, cut in the auxiliaries,
fire up the repulsors, and blast away with his cronies.
But I heard him transmit as he rocketed out of sight,
“Rooarrr rarrwr rawrr purr (bark), rawwrr rarwrr, and to all a good-night!”
