Dear Planet Earth,
It was the first day in a while thatÂ Perry hasnâ€™t come by to dispense fatherly advice or spread the Good Word about the mole people. Heâ€™s been trying toÂ interpretÂ passages for me fromÂ A History of the Inheritors, the ancient manifesto of our underground overlords. Itâ€™s all bullshit, and Iâ€™ve told him as much since he started his temptation toÂ bring me to the dark side and join him so that we may rule the galaxy as father and son.
I did have another awkward conversation withÂ my gruffy gaoler to make up for Perryâ€™s absence. He dropped off my usual gruel at the usual time, and I asked him, â€œWhatâ€™s your name?â€
He looked through the window suspiciously.
â€œIt seems important,â€ I said. â€œYou feed me everyday, recharge my laptop, clean my bedpan. But I donâ€™t even know what to call you.â€
His gaze eased, perhaps understanding the bigger conflict on my mind.
â€œWell, nice to meet you, Ryan.â€
I briefly considered offering him my hand. He was about to go, but I stopped him with another question.
â€œYou have any kids, Ryan?â€
â€œLook, pal, this ainâ€™t the Marriott here. Youâ€™re not a guest and Iâ€™m not your friend. Any issues you got with The Big Guy are between you and him.â€
He stormed off after that, leaving me with a half-full bedpan and dreams of a paternal relationship I never knew I wanted.
Appreciate more random Star Wars references at Beneath Average