The Space Bar

The party is in full swing at The Space Bar, and an extremely well-dressed man with a beautiful flowing cape futilely tries to be heard. 
 
LANDO:  My esteemed friends, I want to take a moment to welcome you to the bachelor party of… Gentlebeings, can I have your attention.  Hey!  Guys!  Ugh, Emperor’s black bones. 

Lando Calrissian nods to a tall Wookiee by the bar, who turns and ROARS at the assembled space jockeys and V.I.P.s.  All heads turn, young Wesley Crusher faints. 

space-bar_han-landoLANDO:  Excellent!  I would like to welcome all of you as we pay our final respects to the long and noteworthy bachelor-hood of my good friend, hero of the Rebellion, Captain Han Solo! (laughs) May he rest in peace! 

The crowd cheers as Han turns and mock-bows. 

LANDO: (continued) And while it is an immense pleasure to see all of you, I would be remiss if I didn’t point out that the invite clearly stated that these festivities were NOT cape-optional.  And looking around, other than myself, I don’t see many other dashing rogues in capes… 

A man with a ridiculous number of ribbons and medals adorning his tunic and a long, exquisite cape bursts through the crowd, a drink spilling in one hand as he drags an overweight lackey behind him.  Both men have hair that is strikingly arranged in a large fan astride their heads, like black sunrises. 
space-bar_londo-virLondo Mollari (R) and assistant Vir Cotto (L), from Babylon 5
LONDO: (pushes aside his fawning assistant) Get away from me, Vir, you incompetent fool! (to Lando) THIS is the finest cape on Centauri Prime, and needless to mention, the most luxurious among this motley collection, I can assure you of that! 

LANDO: (laughing) Thank you very much, Ambassador Mollari.  A man — and a cape — after my own heart!  And I must say, my dear friend … Londo, an excellent name! 

A miniature hoverchair putters on over.  Sitting regally in the floating chair is a small, wizened frog-like creature with prominent mustachios and bushy eyebrows. 

RYGEL:  Silence!  I don’t know why the yotz you two are going on about your capes when there’s absolutely nothing to drink here!  When Dominar Rygel XVI, beloved and feared ruler of the Hynerian Empire, comes to a soiree, I expect — 
space-bar_rygelDominar Rygel XVI from Farscape
LANDO:  (interrupting) Wait!  What do you mean, there’s nothing to drink? 

RYGEL:  (points at Londo) This strangely coifed imbecile certainly seems to be in his cups, but that brutish bartender would only serve me prune juice.  He said it was a “warrior’s drink.” 

An older, bald man, dressed in black and red, whispers something into Lando’s ear while manically pulling down the front of his uniform jacket.  Lando drops his head into his hands. 

LANDO:  He only stocked prune juice?!  Jean-Luc, you said you had this covered! space-bar_picard-worfCapt. Picard (L) and Lt. Worf (R) from Star Trek: The Next Generation

PICARD:  It’s not insurmountable, Lando, we just need to make a space beer run.  I can take my ship and be back — 

HAN:  (interrupting) Now, wait just a second, pal!  If someone needs to get something fast, then my ship’s the only way to go.  I made the Kessel Run in less than twelve parsecs, you know. 

PICARD:  What?  A parsec is a unit of distance, not time.  What are you talking about? 

Han stares blankly, then continues, ignoring Picard. 

HAN:  My ship’s the fastest here, I’d bet my life on it. 

A voice calls out from a booth on the other side of the bar as a tall, humanoid man walks out and approaches them, standing nose-to-nose with Han.  There are a ridiculous number of weapons strapped all over his body. 

space-bar_JayneJayne Cobb from FireflyJAYNE:  I’ll take that bet.  If you ching-wah tsao duh liou mahng (“frog-humping sons of bitches”) just said there’s no more booze here, then there’s no way in hell that I’m waiting for your little ship to get back.  We’ve got a classic Firefly-class transport ship, fueled up and ready to go, and trust me: we can pack a ton of beer into the hold. 

HAN:  Listen, buddy, I don’t know who you are, and I don’t care. I don’t like your attitude, and if you don’t lighten up, I may just change it for you! 

Han punctuates this last statement with a hard POKE to the chest.  In response, Jayne pulls out an enormous semi-automatic machine gun.  

Lightning quick, Han pulls his trusty DL-44 BlasTech pistol and puts his sights right between Jayne’s eyes. Both men tremble with murderous RAGE, fingers tight on the triggers.

The crowd immediately backs away, the sense of danger palpable.  Picard carefully pulls out his phaser and carefully sets it to stun. 

HAN:  Nice gun. 

JAYNE:  It’s a Callahan full-bore auto-lock with a customized trigger, double cartridge and thorough gauge. I call it Vera. 

HAN:  That’s nice.  I’ll make sure you’re buried with it. 

JAYNE:  You’re a funny guy.  I’ll make sure it says so on your gravestone, right under, “Another guy who pissed off Jayne Cobb.” 

HAN:  Wait … did you just say your name is Jane?  Hah!  You’ve got a girl’s name! 

JAYNE:  Bun tyen-shung duh ee-dway-ro! (“Inbred stack of meat!”) 

HAN:  Blaster brain! 

JAYNE:  Liou coe shway duh biao-tze huh hoe-tze duh ur-tze! (“Stupid son of a drooling whore and a monkey!”)  That’s it, your brains are gonna decorate your big-city dandy friend’s ridiculous cape! 

As Lando cowers away to avoid any grey matter on his fabulous cape, without warning, Jayne drops his weapon and CLUTCHES at his throat.  His eyes start to bulge as his mouth opens and closes, desperately trying to gulp down air.

The crowd parts as a black-robed, armored figure steps forward, one clenched fist outstretched.  Young Wesley Crusher faints again.

The newcomer’s loud mechanical breathing and Jayne’s choked gasps are the only sounds as the crowd scatters in TERROR.  Noticing everyone’s shocked looks, he slowly lowers his arm, allowing Jayne to collapse to the floor, unconscious. 

VADER:  Oh.  That was a party foul, wasn’t it? 

HAN:  (to Lando, under his breath) Who invited him, again? 

LANDO:  (whispers) That’s your new father-in-law, dude. (to Vader) Nice cape! 

space-bar_vader-choke 

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About the author

Luis Navarro is a token man slave and writer for Comediva.  He is a proud Valley Boy ("Fer sure") and martial artist.  He earned a Master's Degree in Counseling and is an ordained online minister!  He also boasts an encyclopedic knowledge of the Star Wars Expanded Universe and post-1970s movie trivia.  He is secure enough in his masculinity to admit a fondness for unicorns.

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