A Slight Misunderstanding...

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Star Wars. I owe inspiration for this pointlessshort fic to two friends.

"Why is my Master's face pinned to a dartboard?" Vader asked forebodingly as he entered into a room of many, many windows, for which the windows were there for no reason to have many, many windows, of course. He stared at the dartboard, which had a picture of Palpatine tacked up to it, and several darts stuck in the center of his face.

The Dark Lord of the Sith paced up to the full sized image, enlarged so that every wrinkle on the Emperor's face stuck out, making him look remarkably like a dried up mummified twerp. Possibly he was. The Dark Lord of the Sith-- namingly Vader-- shook his head, and pulled the darts out of his Master's face.

He glared viciously. "Someone will pay for this."

A few seconds later, a door conveniantly opened, and Luke Skywalker, new Jedi Knight ran in. "Daddy, you found my darts!" the immature and whiny Jedi exclaimed. "Were you going to throw them at Palpatine TOO?!" He looked like he might faint.

Vader hissed, breathing loudly. Before he could reply, Luke was back talking again.

"You really shouldn't've smoked as a kid, daddy. You're paying the price for it now. You're lucky you didn't get LUNG CANCER with that bad a cough!"

Vader continued to breath loudly, looking down at the darts in his hand, and wondering how much harm one could do to his annoyingly immature son's head. "Son..."

"Besides, Dad, you really shouldn't be threatening your MASTER, of all things, even if he is just a dried up mummifed twerp--"

The Sith Lord found himself wondering exactly how good his son was at mind reading, anyway.

"--but who'd want to be apprenticed to that mummy anyway? I mean, really, Dad, Obi-Wan looked a lot nicer, even if all the local girls did fawn over him, and swoon over his blue eyes-- until he got married by that tall orangish Jedi Master girl. What was her name, Daddy...?"

Before Vader could answer, his son was babbling again, ignoring him completely.

"--oh well, but Palpatine couldn't've been THAT ugly as a kid, or maybe he was, and maybe he was just cloned, and never was a kid, and he's actually an agent from another planet threatening us all to take over the galaxy. No, wait, he already did that..."

He got his lungs from his mother... has he even taken one breath?

"--but of course he's NOT going to take over the galaxy because WE'RE going to take over the galaxy, aren't we daddy, and rule as father and son and..."

"And whine the galaxy to death, my son?" Vader finally got a word in.

Luke made a pouty face, and stared up at the magnificant, nine foot tall Dark Lord of the Sith, who was standing over him breathing forebodingly. "I'm not whiny! I'm anything BUT whiny! I never whine-- how come you're always picking on me! It's not fair that you always pick on me and never give me a chance to speak or anything else to do because you don't care! I wanna go home, but you destroyed my home because you were lazy and a bad father and didn't care a thing about what was happening to ME and all you cared about was YOU, and you had to go and have kids and forget about us and not let us do anything or have pizza for supper or rule the galaxy because you're so MEEEEEEEEEEEEAN! And you don't care, and you won't let us be powerful or have ruling rings of power... how come you always pick on ME! IT'S NOT FAIR, YOU MEANY! I'M NOT WHINYYYYYYY..."

Vader hissed loudly, and hurled the dart at his son.

His son, seemingly more proficiant in the Force than he let on, moved his right hand slightly, and the dart reversed directions, spinning around to slam itself right into the middle of the picture of Palpatine still tacked up to the dartboard.

Luke dashed out of the room, giggling like a three year old child.

Vader turned around slowly, still holding two darts in his left hand--

--To find himself face to face with Palpatine, who was staring at the dart stuck to his head. He turned to face Vader menacingly.

"My Master, I can explain..."