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Vader: (rings door)
E: (throws open door, strikes a pose) Elvis, is in, the building!
Vader: I can see that. The Empire requires 30 bars of gold pressed latinum for these rations.
E: Gold-pressed latinum? Am I all-shook-up, or did you borrow that currency from the Ferengis?
Vader: Star Trek will submit to the Galactic Empire. Now, buy these rations! (extends hand, Elvis begins choking)
E: Now hold on, hold on, man. You're messing up my collar. (strikes a pose)
Vader: I tire of this, white-clad human. I am your father--you are my son, and the one true king.
E: Mercy, man! That's the wrong Jones movie!
Vader: (twists hand, Elvis collaspes. opens box of cookies, tries to fit them through breathing holes in mask)
Strong Sad letting loose on his brothers.
_________________ I could use some salve.
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