So, I’m sitting down at the cantina, throwin’ a few back with some friends, having a good time after a long hard day at work. Well, then this blond haired preppy boy comes in and totally snags my buddy’s seat at the bar. You know it was intentional too, my buddy’s jacket was totally on the seat. I mean, that is just like calling dibs, the seat is taken man. Anyways, I try to explain to this kid the error of his ways, maybe, just maybe he didn’t see that the seat was spoken for. The little shit totally blows me off. Well, screw that noise man, first he squats on my buddy’s bar stool, now he thinks he can just ignore me. I wanna give this sand farming turd a piece of my mind.
So, right then my buddy Cornelius comes back from the shitter and tries to reason with this guy. You’d think, being in a new place, not knowing the lay of the land, the kid might be a little more cooperative, but no. I’ve had it, I make a grab for the punk, figurin’ I’ll take him out back, give him a few lumps to teach him a lesson, deed is done. Well, outta no where comes this grandpa with this fucking laser sword and he whacks off my freakin’ arm. Really, you bring a fucking laser sword to a bar brawl, what kind of fucked up crazy shit is that? This isn’t the Old Republic man, you can’t just go into bars and chop off a guys arm, we got laws man.
And, to top things off, my insurance feeds me some bullspit about arm reattachments not being covered under my plan. What the hell am i supposed to do now? Fucking chick tells me a few days in a bacta tank will fix me right up. Yeah, and who is gonna pay for it, that shit ain’t cheap. I just hope I can qualify for some disability. Knew I shoulda taken that job on Alderaan.
