Jabba's Palace - Original Cut

A lonely, windswept road meanders through the desolate Tatooine terrain. A familiar beeping, deeting and chirping is met with a condescending reply, as HK-47 and T3-M4 make their way along the road toward the ominous palace of Jabba the Hutt.

'Query: Worried?' HK asked his astromech companion, 'Why would I worry? Mockery: The captain of the city-ship where I was brutally maimed may have been harmed? Condescending Statement: I would sooner practice dancing with the gender-confused Princess than mourn that Calrissian meatbag. Query: As for the furry sack of meat? Musing: I do believe he would make a good throw rug.'

'Dwoo.'

'Statement: Certainly. Whenever it destroyed the Hyperdrive, you could simply take it out and beat it!'

'Deet! Brewer beep!'

'Annoyed Concession: Very well. Perhaps I will only hope for him to have been turned in to Chew'n T'bacca.'

'Beet?'

'Threat: It WAS humorous!'

'Dwoo.'

The droids advanced forward, still bickering, and arrived at the Palace doors. T3 chirped lightly.

'Query: Knock? Oh, very well.' HK pulled a carbine off its back and started hammering away at the door like a miner with an axe; it did this three times, and then stepped back. 'Eager Statement: There doesn't seem to be anyone there.' HK held up its carbine with lightning quick motions. 'Mockery: Let's go back and tell Master Luke.' The droid was about to fire when a small hatch in the middle of the door opened, and a spidery mechanical arm, with a large electronic eyeball on the end, popped out and inspected the two droids. A deep voice came with it.

'Tee chuta hhat yudd!'

'Bee deet da deet!'

'Chuba!'

'Translator Online. Statement: Tehthreah Emfwa bo Eichkay ey toota...odd mischka...Jabba du hutt.'

The eye looked from one robot to the other, and the voice that was with it laughed, before the device slipped back into the door. HK was pleased with this.

'Ironic Musing: I regret deeply that we shall have to force our way in!'

'Doop bweet drewr.'

Suddenly, the massive door started to rise with a metallic screech. The droids looked on to face an endless cavity of black. HK stalked forwards briskly, T3 trailing behind.

'Beep!' T3 exclaimed as a spider-like droid passed behind them. With a loud crash, the Palace door slammed shut. Out of the shadows, two brutish Gamorrean guards fell in behind them. Out of the shadows, the Twi'lek Bib Fortuna appeared and approached the two droids.

'Die wanna wanga!' he demanded of them.

'Warning: Approach if you will, Twi'lek, but if you breathe the word Pazaak or request I 'run numbers,' you will find yourself in a world of rather improvised, yet uncommonly entertaining pain.' T3 let out a sharp whistle.

'Admission: I was getting to it. Statement: We bring a message to your Master, Jabba the Hutt.' T3 beeped sharply again. 'And,' HK continued, 'a gift.' The assassin droid looked down at his companion. 'Query: Gift? What gift?'

Bib shook his head disapprovingly.

'Nee Jabba no badda,' he said, stroking the T3's thin head tauntingly, 'Me chaade su goodie.' The astromech bleeped argumentatively.

'Threat: Make yourself useful, tomb stuffing. Firm Statement: Our instructions are to give the message only to your Master himself.' Bib panned his eyes across the droids, considering this carefully, and gestured for them to follow.

After a minute of walking, the group reached the throne room of Jabba the Hutt, which was filled with the vilest, most grotesque creatures ever conceived in the universe. HK-47 and T3-M4 seemed comparatively small as they paused in the doorway to the dimly lit chamber. Light shafts partially illuminated the drunken courtiers as Bib Fortuna crossed the room to the platform upon which rested the leader of the nauseating crowd: Jabba the Hutt. The monarch of the galactic underworld was a repulsive blob of bloated fat with a maniacal grin. Chained to the horrible creature was a green Twi'lek. HK examined her, remembering the blue variety he had traveled with.

'Rhetorical Query: Now why I did I not think of that?'

Bib whispered something in the slobbering Hutt's ear. Jabba laughed horribly at the two droids before him. HK-47 bowed begrudgingly, hiding its carbine, reminding itself of the weight of the task at hand.

'Statement: Greetings, he who brings new meaning to the term 'meat bag.''

'Bo Shuda!' Jabba bellowed. HK swiftly slapped T3 across the head.

'Instruction: Play the message, tin can.'

T3 whistled, and a beam of light projected from its rounded head, creating a hologram of Luke Skywalker on the floor. The image grew to over ten feet tall, and the young Jedi towered over the space gangsters.

'Greetings, Exalted One,' Luke's hologram started. 'Allow me to introduce myself. I am Luke Skywalker, Jedi Knight and friend to Captain Solo. I know that you are powerful, mighty Jabba, and that your anger with Solo must be equally powerful. I seek an audience with Your Greatness to bargain for Solo's life.' The room of aliens erupted in laughter. 'With your wisdom, I'm sure that we can work out an arrangement which will be mutually beneficial and enable us to avoid any unpleasant confrontation. As a token of my goodwill, I present to you a gift: these two droids.'

HK's head snapped quickly to its side.

'Demand: What did he say?'

'Both are hard working, and will serve you well.' With that, the hologram dissipated, and the room of aliens laughed sycophantically with Jabba again.

'Mockery: My ruthlessly efficient, yet somehow repulsive-to-me father carries a laser sword, therefore my genetic appendages are of great size!'

'Deet brewr doop boop.'

'Condescending Reply: Yes, I do think this of him. And of the Jedi meatbags I have served with, he is easily the most whimpering and naïve of them all. Negotiating with a Hutt? I would wager that if the enjoyably merciless Lord Vader were to tell the Jedi he knew what he was getting for his birthdate because he had 'felt his presents,' the fool would believe it!'

'Beet been bop.'

'Admission: This is true. I would imagine Vader unendingly impersonating James Earl Jones to poor effect would be most irritating. Supposition: An effective counter would be to constantly reply to him by taunting, 'this is CNN.'' T3 whistled approvingly. Jabba and his gang members watched in silent bewilderment.

'Concession: Though I would believe having the frustratingly serene Obi-Wan Kenobi appear to you in your sleep, chanting 'I told you so' would put a great deal of stress on any meat bag.'

'ENOUGH!' Jabba bellowed through in Huttese. 'There will be no bargain. I will not give up my favorite decoration. I like Captain Solo where he is.'

Jabba laughed hideously and looked toward an alcove beside the throne. Hanging high, flat against the wall, exactly as he was on Cloud City, Han Solo was frozen in a block of carbonite. The two droids shifted their sights to the Captain.

'Query: Carbonite?' HK turned to Boba Fett, who was slinking around in a corner. 'Sulking Statement: Old friend, I'm disappointed in you. Nostalgic Query: What of the many days of intoxication spent gouging out the eyes of flubby bureaucrats? Extrapolative Query: And what would your father think?'

'Times have changed,' the bounty hunter replied in monotone, 'I gotta pay the bills.'

'Pleading Query: Whatever happened to the Boba who would load up on juma, and incinerate gizka in a bucket to the sounds of Onderonian Cantina Jazz?'

'He grew up, and I'll say no more!'

From where Jabba sat, Fortuna stepped down and addressed a pair of Gamorrean guards.

'You, take these droids to be assigned. Make sure they are broken in.' Out of the Twi'lek's earshot, T3 whistled quietly.

'Reply: Indeed. That was not in the script. Request: Tell me, are the cameras still operating?'

'Deet!' HK returned its cold stare to the direction of Fortuna, who approached him.

'You will go to be processed now.'

'Refusal: I will not.' The air became tense, as all eyes fell on the assassin droid. Fortuna became nervous in his speech.

'You...will go to be processed...now.'

'Rhetorical Extrapolation: I see creative liberty as a term much over used and put through subjective review. However, in some cases, it can allow for wonderful works of finesse and beauty to emerge from improvised situations. Statement: For example, when I remove the thermal detonator from the masked bounty hunter!' HK's lightning fast arm shot forward to reveal the silver orb clutched in its hand. The room erupted into panicked chaos; aliens ducked behind tables and each other, and Jabba began yelling out. Boba Fett burst into fits of giggling laughter, doubling over on the throne room staircase.

'Explanation: Both precise assassination and film are works of art; bearing fruits of labor. Excited Declaration: Combining my expertise at one with my love for another will have entertaining results!' The droid pressed the button, and the detonator exploded, sending smoke and a loud bang rushing outwards through the room, knocking all but the sturdy droids at its center off their feet.

'CUT!' a frustrated voice rang out across the set. HK froze where he stood, and turned to T3.

'Statement: This is entirely your fault.' The recently decimated figures around them started shifting around. Jabba's head came off his body with a click, and a man with several mechanical control pads emerged. The slain 'aliens' on the floor around them got up and shifted around; pulling off masks, smoking cigarettes and talking to one another. From the empty warehouse section facing away from the set of Jabba's palace interior, a man with messy black hair and a mangy beard to match strode over to the droids, massaging his temples. HK leaned down to T3 again.

'Confused Query: Does the meatbag know he is not directing this one?'

'Deet? Boop beep.'

'Amused Reply: Yes, I thought so.'

The bearded man at last reached them.

'Okay,' he said with exasperation, 'you guys did good, but I have to be honest, it's not what we're looking for. Now I know we already filmed you for the other two, but in this day and age editing isn't hard...so...'

'Simmering Query: We are being terminated?'

'No no. I just think it's time we...curtailed certain redundancies...in the...droid management...area.'

'Demand: And who will replace us? Declaration: Not only will it be impossible to find realistic replacements, you cannot simply purchase or create the chemistry my friend and I share.'

'Dwoo.' HK swiftly kicked T3, sending him toppling onto his side.

'Actually,' the man told them, motioning back towards the warehouse, 'we already have replacements ready for this scene.' HK shifted its glare over to the set to see a girlish, round-headed droid, and a rounded version of T3 as well.

'Enraged Statement: You mean to replace myself with a mere understudy?'

'He knows all your lines, and he's more polite too. We...want this movie to go over well with the kids, you know.'

'Placating Retort: That is what the pint sized, furry Ewok dung sacks are for. Query: Or are they simply another marketing gimmick? Mockery: I had believed themed laxatives entitled, 'May the Force Run Through You,' were low enough, but clearly your taste is for the most depraved.'

'Hey! Don't threaten me, I'm in charge around here.'

'Affront: Oh, yes. And what brilliant judgement you possess! Replacing a droid of charisma such as I with a pansy little meatbag shaped knock off who lacks the ball bearings to hold a mining laser, much less a tri-scope sniper rifle. Statement: If you get any worse in your calls you'll likely produce flat, uninspiring sequels to these dreadful pictures. Or worse...prequels.'

'Dwoo! Deet brewr boop.'

'Amused Recognition: Yes, and I expect the acting would be as crusty as the princess' bosoms, hence the multitude of air conditioners required for this scene. Special effects make great compensation for that, however. And...other things too. Perhaps that is where your insecurity stems from, Mr. 'Director?''

'Doo boop bop. Rrr neet beep.'

'Yes, perhaps the third of these prequels will redeem themselves,' HK told T3 and then paused, turning back to the man, 'but we can't take that chance.' The Hunter Killer droid armed its carbine and hunched into an attack position.

'Um...say,' the panicked would-be director begged, 'do you like video games?'

HK stood up and disarmed its weapon.

'Statement: Why, yes I do. Query: Do you have something in mind?'