They Call me Vader

By: Cody DiCavalcante

It all started at the Death Star. I was financing another miracle in space while my young Skywalker tried to end my life. I was trying to create a universal fund for creating a baseball field in blackhole Moe, an interspatial sport that all could enjoy. Blackhole Moe is the meanest blackhole in space but I possessed it with powers unknown, keeping it in sync with peace and order. I’m not a dark lord like everyone thinks.  No one understood so I escaped imperial universal courts and flew around space, camouflaging myself in deep space.  This has been my life for a while. They just never understood my policies and reason for carrying a red light saber. I have been trying to open up to the people I have met on the small villages on tiny planets that aren’t on the Bulletin of Planetary Objects. I’ve helped the celestial poor for years to come, pulling together those without a voice and opening up their opportunities and breaking the powers of those in all hotspots in space. The government has created a battle against me, the guys with the green light sabers (which look like long lettuce wraps on a rampage) have their swords up and ready, even my own son. The universe is a funny place but it doesn’t mean I don’t try to respect its laws and regulations. I don’t abuse the bong or carry more than 50 pounds onboard Southwest. That’s why I wear this suit of black. I let everyone know that darkness is a compound that weighs heavily in the universe and it won’t ever go away. But everything that glistens black is not evil. People call me Vader. My mask looks like a building in Overland Park, Kansas and tackle asteroids as a cool down every night before bed (that’s why earth hasn’t been hit by one in so long).  Here is what’s next.

I landed on a planet after my death star was blown up by those fast, fierce jets. The fight was a good one and if everyone heard the yell behind my mask, I also was smiling in my defeat. You can’t cry over blown up solids. When I took off in my spaceship I zoomed past the forces of good and evil, between two worlds, fully able to see what the universe was trying to say. All languages meshed together and I suddenly was fluent in a language I couldn’t describe. I closed my eyes and rehearsed an opera of words, a lyricist in a meteor vineyard that makes Harlem look like candy buttons, attempting another realm of being, requesting feedback but no one answered. I had to figure it out for myself. My helmet had burn marks from the travel, interdisciplinary education combined with virtuous remedy at light speed. I was quiet in this moment. I could hear the stars romanticize at this moment, fully blinding my ability to speak, even more think. The stars found attraction in things other than space, smaller things, things on planets, insects that could carry things three times their weight. They were the most non-judgmental objects occupying this infinite space. I was blank for once. I had the whole universe stretching out my alveoli into unified pathways of love, light, and crimson community. The blood was speaking to me in purpose and removing the cancer (not the cancer of earth, a more macroscopic version associating mostly with elemental blindness, a suicide of the cosmos in the energy of space and time) and took off on a high beyond anything I’d ever experienced, more so than the marathon I did through the Calchos Viros constellation. I could see my young son running through fields tripping in holes and putting comet-caste cohesive band-aids on his bruised skin, my wife smiling in a place that seemed incomprehensible, and everyone closing the book on struggle.  I was able to remove my helmet and remember what life was like before I had to hide myself.

After that experience I suddenly was in my in-laws garage without the door up. I pulled up my slacks. I must have taken them off to run faster through the cosmic flames. I opened the intergalactic space doors and round house kicked my father in law in the jaw, due to returning to my normal level of consciousness. I had no idea who he was. He gave me a look of extreme betrayal and made me sit in the corner. I held my head low that evening, as my in-laws, Bob and Brenda, watched “Who Wants to be a Yodainaire”.  The next morning, I thought about what had happened to me in the meteor complex. I opened the sliding door to the backyard, felt the sun tap dance upon my helmet. I was able to decipher all solar radiation through my helmet, turning them into a rolodex of musical compliments that I was most willingly to cooperate with. The pleasure moved itself through my body, echoing like the last call for alcohol. I could hear my in-laws trying to figure out a good excuse to get me out of their house. I didn’t wait around for the final decision. I got into my spaceship and headed towards the Imperial courts, ready to rendezvous with justice.

As I reached the Imperial landing base, I felt my cell phone ring. I pulled it out of my holster. I never kept a gun in that space during the day, too many children. I looked at my phone. It was the intergalactic counselor of Palson. He wanted to see if I’d help him build another Death Star. I knew his intentions. He wanted to construct one out of pure evil, infiltrating planets around the cosmos, pulling their energy into twisted metal, destroying civilizations one by one. I wasn’t going to let it happen. If only he would have known what I originally built it for. The main purpose of that particular structure was to connect with those who have moved into the other world, understanding their place outside our own system, not create more dead. I was a dead beat news network’s dream, someone who was looked at as a threat to the universe, I was totally misconstrued. I ignored the call and stepped out into a crown of frowns so strong; they stirred my heart into a huddle of course haired fear. I was uncomfortable as fuck. I moved forward, my cape blowing in the mild winds. From the sound of it, it seemed like I needed to use less starch in my colors. I pulled through the untamed crowd, past the middle fingers, which was a universal sign for hatred, and the unapproved belches into my vapor cage and proceeded to the Imperial gate, ready to change the pace of the cosmos.

When I was escorted by the United Fleet to the Imperial Court, I had to go through a metal detector before entering the judging center. Of course I had to remove my light saber but with that I tossed into the bowl a screwdriver, a pair of tweezers and a box of chocolates from Forrest Gump’s mom. We had the ability on our planet to recreate fully functional characters shown through media, even so much as make them look exactly like Sally Field. That movie made me want to run. Anyways, when I made it to the Imperial Courts, I was blinded by the gold placed in the room. They really should change the décor in the room. It can cause extreme injury if you are abused easily by light trajectory. When my vision finally intercepted the whole color spectrum, I saw the four judges. Judge Beatle, Judge Crunch, Judge Balboa, and Judge Rainhard. They all looked as old as the last time I saw them, I wanted to hand them all tiny containers of Jell-o. They eyed me with the same hastiness that I saw when my son tried to rupture my spleen with his lettuce colored sword. I held it together. I resisted the pain. They gave me the go-head to announce my plea. I spoke of what happened in the meteor complex, the light, the power behind molecular unity, the love that was seen through piercing looks in twinkling stars that are actually winks to those who are lost and how it must all be applied universally. I spoke for what seemed like a few seconds but actually ended up being four hours, the maximum time someone was given to state a plea. I left the court proud. I walked out the gate, hearing the jeering of the citizens who called me an unjust man but didn’t seem to care. I only cared for the universe’s complacency in peace and maybe a burger but most the former. It was the court’s final decision in measuring the importance of my plea but I knew it would get through to their cores. I was a smiling man behind the mask, a smiling continuum.


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