Goddamn, I didn’t want things to end up this way. My life has been a living hell, so it makes sense that charred to a crisp would be the way for me to go out. There’s something wild about looking at your burned corpse on the ground. If anything, I think the afterlife is meant for a rant, so here we go.
Let’s start with my surname. My goddamn surname is Lars. Lars. Who the hell even names their children Lars? It’s a goddamn terrible name, sounds ugly, a cousin of the belch that instantly caused everyone to judge me. I’m certainly not destined for greatness like someone with the last name Skywalker. When people look at someone named Lars, they expect someone working with droids far removed from contact with living species. Hell, I know several Lars that have ended up marrying their goddamn droids.
Secondly, I’ve been a moisture farmer on Tatooine my entire life. I think moisture farming is something that everyone needs to say out loud several times and truly think about what the concept entails because it’s easy to say it flippantly without garnering its actual meaning. Remember, I live on Tatooine which is entirely a desert. A bit hard for your planet to not be a desert when you have two stars. Moisture farming is quite literally farming for water. I’ve been doing it all my life, and I barely understand how that process is achieved in the middle of a desert or why we don’t just import water onto this planet. Better yet, why the fuck did any species that require water even settle on this planet in the first place? We have the ability to travel at lightspeed and reach any planet in the galaxy. Why would we pick a planet devoid of any of the conditions that make life possible? And now I hear that they might be putting in a golf course on Tatooine. I’m proud to say that I voted against that measure.
I’ll tell you why the Lars ended up on Tatooine: because of my father, Cliegg Lars. After my mother died, we returned to his home planet of Tatooine. He’d done the impossible, get out of Tatooine, and now he was forced to return for financial reasons. It was supposed to be a quick stop, make a little money at the old moisture farm homestead, enough for a move to a new place that didn’t remind him of his deceased wife and also didn’t require you to harvest water out of the ground. We both decided that we wanted to live next to some sort of body of water. We had made all the arrangements to leave Tatooine, had enough funds, and were about to leave for a planet entirely composed of water, Kamino. I don’t even remember the reason we stopped in that goddamn junk shop in the first place. Next thing I know, he’s spent all of our money to leave this hellhole on buying Shmi Skywalker’s freedom. Well, I guess it’s time to go back to the fucking moisture farm, isn’t it?
A few days turn into months and months turn into years. Soon, my youth has been seized by the sand and sun, premature aging is a bitch on desert planets, kids. And, worst of all, this goddamn Shmi won’t shut up about her son, Anakin Jedi Knight. The same son that left her a slave to go off on some damn fool idealistic crusade. It made me sick every night at dinner hearing about how much she missed him when I had spent all day out on the goddamn moisture farm getting a few specks of water for my troubles while he was probably out there surrounded by luxury in Coruscant. Worst of all, she has the worst goddamn blue milk this side of the Dune Sea and her cream of womprat soup was all cream no womprat let me tell you. So over meals devoid of any flavor entirely, I have to listen to my step-mom go on and on about how great her biological son is. Really puts a damper on your self-esteem when nothing you did was ever good enough for the kid who one that fucking Boonta Eve Classic.
So the years go on and the one good thing in my life was when I met Beru. Let me tell you, back before the unnatural binary suns and complete desert weathered us away, she was quite the specimen. On a planet where there are maybe like three women altogether, I guess I’m not too qualified to be speaking of her beauty but I thought she was the sweetest creature I’d ever laid eyes on. And let me tell you, her blue milk and cream of womprat soup was out of this world. I hit that jackpot in Sabaac big time, buddy.
But then, what would you have guessed it but, Shmi got herself kidnapped by a bunch of sandpeople apparently when she was picking vaporator mushrooms. Now, I’ve picked vaporator mushrooms hundreds of times, still did up to the day I died and I never saw one single sandperson. But, nevertheless, my dad gets a search party together and 26 people end up getting killed by sandpeople. Do you understand what losing those 26 people meant? They basically composed the entire village I grew up with. I lost almost everyone I knew in a single day. And my father came back without his right leg and was confined to a wheelchair. That doesn’t make the most efficient moisture farmer. And our moisture is still not going to farm itself. And then this kid Anakin comes along, her son, out of nowhere to save her, believing we did nothing for her. Those 26 bodies begged otherwise, I argued. So he does his thing and comes back with her lifeless corpse. Let me tell you though, killing an entire tribe of sandpeople really made us suffer for a few years after that. I lot of retribution we had to defend ourselves against. Instead of staying to help me do a little moisture farming with my family completely decimated, he leaves as soon as possible taking the robot he built years ago with him that was one of the only last helpers on the farm. I watched his spaceship take off deep down wishing that I could have been invited and brought to a better life. So it goes.
Things are quite for the next few years. These Clone Wars are apparently going on but everyone realizes the uselessness of a planet that is one huge desert and we see no military action on Tatooine. The moisture farming goes well, we’re bottling plenty of water to sell, labeling it as Genius Water and overcharging for it, making huge profits. Finally, the day came when I looked at Beru and realized that we had enough money to start a new life somewhere else, somewhere in a galaxy far, far away. And then, all of a sudden, this Jedi comes down with a fucking baby and tells me that Beru and I need to raise it because his father, my step-brother, had turned to evil and killed the mother. Let me tell you, you don’t turn to evil working on a moisture farm. Closest you get is overcharging for a little water. Now, with an extra mouth to feed and specific instructions that my evil brother will be looking for this kid, we’re forced to stay on Tatooine, I give up my plans for escape once again. But first, I ask this Ben Kenobi why he can’t just raise the kid himself. And he gives me a long-winded answer about the force and some other horseshit and prances away. So now I’ve got a little baby in my arms, and I have to worry about raising him for the next 18 years, saving enough money for landspeeders and T-16s, affording to send him to the Academy. All the while this wizard gets to live life as a bachelor, living like a bum, while he buys my water for free by shaking his hand in front of me and compels me to give it to him.
But honestly, all the years Luke was with me, I grew to love the little guy. I loved him deeply as a son and only wanted what was best for him. Sure, I was rough on him, but could you blame me? The kid was predisposed to whining all the time, like his father, and I needed to teach him that you needed strength to survive in this world. And I couldn’t name him Sue because his name was already Luke, but Sue would have been a hell of a good way to raise a kid to grow up strong.
I wanted the best for Luke. When Ben Kenobi came over and wanted to give him his father’s lightsaber at the age of 6 or something like that, I thought it was a terribly dangerous idea. I had to explain that he was my son, yes my son, and that I felt like a lightsaber was just leading him down the path of violence that his father now employed throughout the galaxy. I understood that Luke didn’t want to be a farmer, hell I didn’t want to be a farmer. But I also didn’t want him to go to the Academy to become a soldier and lose his life in combat. What parent wants that? I was raising money for him all the while that I was going to give him after this last season and ultimately let him do whatever he wished. When those stormtroopers came, I knew that they would kill all of us if I told them Luke would soon be back with the droids. I put up a fight, but in the end it looks like the only soldiers capable of hitting something in the galaxy found us. And they didn’t just shoot us once in the head. They brought the flamethrower in and torched everything. Hell of a way to go out.
And now I’m here in some sort of nothingness where all the while Ben Kenobi can become a ghost and go back and talk with Luke, Luke who he spent a collective twelve or something hours with. Instead I’ll never the son who I always wished would call me father again. What do I got to get one last glimpse of my boy?