AN: This isn't as funny or short as some of my other chapters, but it was momentary inspiration, and I couldn't resist writing it. It'll be more funny if you're a girl who's had mega-emotional PMS...


Darth Vader had never had to contemplate the existence of internet porn before. In fact, the villainous theory had never occurred to him. Where was the purpose in staring at images of naked, or near naked people? It wasn't as satisfying as the good ol' idea of taking his lightsaber and a few training droids and blowing up large objects.

It wasn't as satisfying as the thought of Padmé.

He had never had to set up a censor system on the computer before, either. But there was no way he was letting his troops see any of these pictures. No way. They were simply too horrifying for words. If they wanted an eyeful, they could go get laid themselves if they wanted to. No, this was simply beyond words. Indescribable. Horrifying!

As if that point hadn't already been made by his series of thoughts.

Upon googling (a Terran term, he had heard) ways to censor all webpages with pictures of naked people, though, he came upon great frustration. The darkest thing since the darkside! False advertising!

Were none of these preventive programs freeware!

And, Vader thought to himself, what was birth control, anyway? Why was his search for preventive devices coming up with water balloons and white pills? And why were his stormtroopers snickering madly from in behind him?

He attempted to breathe out threateningly, and ran into a slight snag, this being the simply undeniable fact that his helmet was, once again, clogged with mucus. Or was that his bronchial tubes? Vader was greatly uncertain.

Why was his Master, of all people, giggling madly?

Vader sighed. Was all of humanity (and perhaps not humanity) out to get him? Was he destined to be the uttermost target of parody? Was there no chance for the great and incredible Sith Lord to escape continual torment as the fulcrum of mockery?

Does this question require an answer?

Of course not! It's just too fun!

Not too much later, Darth Vader reached out with the Force, tweaked just the tiniest hint of the interal wiring on the computer, and...


That computer would never again show its naked faces to the unsuspecting world at large! Vader would've grinned menacingly, but he found himself surrendering to another coughing fit, falling over just as the computer imploded into a tiny internet fireball.

At this rate, he thought, although his thought patterns were noticably more cut off than they could've been, I shall become like Grievous, may he rest in pieces.

Cough, thought Vader.

He inhaled sharply, gratified by the fact that tiny pieces of mucus didn't slowly jump from his mask to his burnt out lungs this time. There were a few small blessings in life, at the very least. One of them was an ability to breathe. Life... hated him. He hated this mask.

In fact, Vader hated everything. He hated so much, he wanted to fall apart and cry. Even his own son abandoned him in his moments of need! Covered in red blotches, he had scurried off to the medical ward in the hopes to not have to suffer his monster-like father's presence any longer, and to not have to be encumbered by the coughing and hacking brought on by a terrible common cold.

And hayfever...

It was all Luke's fault! Why could he never be there for his father!

Vader sniffled, but didn't cry, because his tear glands had been scorched by the volcano his own Master had thrown him into. His Master! Obi-Wan had been like a father to him! He had loved that Jedi Master like a father, trusted him with his life.

But Obi-Wan had always held him back. Only Padmé had ever cared, and he had killed her! He, Anakin Skywalker, the one who professed to love her most. And then Palpatine, nothing more than a lying schemer who carried around spares just in case. Surely he was using this bout of hay fever as an excuse to murder Lord Vader, to knock off the great Sith Lord, and replace him with his younger son.

It had all been a sham! No one cared! They just wanted to use him to make an even better Sith, an even more powerful child! Palpatine probably didn't even have chicken pox. It was probably just pink paint, dotted in raised blots over his pale mummified skin. Luke had probably just eaten something that had given him a rash! The stormtroopers were all horrible! They hated him!

Vader wanted his mommy. She had loved him. But the Sandpeople had murdered her without a care to his feelings or hurts. Obi-Wan had held him back. No one loved him! They all hated him, of course. Why wouldn't they? He was nothing more than a Force-choking monster, made solely for the purpose of mass murder, dislike, and control.

He was a puppet! Palpatine's puppet!

And everyone hated him, even his son...

I'll bet even Padmé lied. She was in league with Obi-Wan in order to get herself pregnant and have babies that'd become powerful. And Obi-Wan's probably not dead. I'll show them! I'll show them all!


No one cares... everyone hates me!

The great and might Sith Lord very swiftly subsumed to despression, burried his helmeted head in his hands, and attempted to cry.

This failed, for his lack of tear glands, but the action was still there. Feel for the poor, unloved Darth Vader.

(and review to cheer him up!)