Darth Maul Renews His License
by obi-juan canoli
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Darth Maul, pupil to the evil Sith Lord, heir to the seething hatred of a millennium of shameful hiding and bringer of chaos and death to the noble order of the Jedi, stared out of the space cruiser's window. His piercing yellow eyes remained fixed on the ever-growing landing platform as he repeated Sith maxims and practiced thrust and parry exercises in his mind. The red and white ship slowed its descent and touched down on the platform. Outside, lifeforms of all shapes and descriptions trudged to and from a large, nondescript and windowless tower adjacent to the landing platform. At the pilot's seat next to him, his master Darth Sidious reached for the doorlock controls. The cockpit was instantly filled with light and the sounds of Coruscant at high noon. Darth Maul sighed.
He had to renew his license.
"I sense great annoyance in you," said Lord Sidious in a slow, booming baritone. "Have patience, my young apprentice. When I establish full control of the Senate and abolish this useless bureaucracy, I shall bring the DMV to its knees!"
"Yes, my master," replied Maul, who beamed inwardly at his teacher's resolve and ambition.
Sidious reached a wrinkled hand out from the folds of his old brown hood and handed his pupil a set of keys. "While you are being tested, I shall be purchasing Performance Fleece at the Old Navy. Now.. go!"
The tattooed Sith pushed a button on the keychain and the air thundered with a loud BEEP, then he walked with singular conviction toward the DMV building, mindful of the student pilots racing past him. On the way, he recognized one of them. It was that simpering twit, Obi-Wan Kenobi! Obi-Wan had been saving up for a brand new speeder by working summer jobs and doing "special favors" for his master, Qui-Gon Jinn. He seemed to be doing quite well through the cones, smiling all the while.
"Too easy," Maul whispered to himself. As Kenobi's speeder passed, he called on the power of the Force and with a wave of his hand, sent its pilot and droid evaluator tumbling onto the platform. The vehicle smashed against the platform on its side and turned into a fiery tangle of metal and electrical arcs. Maul made a fist, threw his elbow back and hissed triumphantly. Obi-Wan sighed as what was left of the evaluator droid handed him a fail slip.
Despite his small success, Darth Maul was not in a pleasant mood. He dreaded the thought of possibly standing in line behind a Wookiee or worse yet, one of those damned Neimoidians who wouldn't stop talking about how good the imports/exports business is and why he should be exempt from waiting with the peons.
The Department of Mechanized Vehicles was the dreariest place in the universe, and one of the longest waits. In fact, some species of beings don't even pilot their own ships because their lifespans are too short to endure the wait of applying for a pilot's license. Darth Maul's eyes scanned the situation at hand: kiosks placed sporadically around a large floor space. The lines, which seemed to snake around and off into infinity, were host to a large variety of lifeforms from around the galaxy. The interior of the building hadn't been redecorated in over 30 years, and it showed. Public service posters hung here and there. "Don't Drink and Fly!" advised one poster, which featured a drawing of an intoxicated little Nerf with a huge 'fro and a leisure suit. The air was stale and the old fluorescent lights flickered quietly as the lines trudged along.
Darth Maul was not about to wait. His master would be done with his shopping shortly and he needed to finish this task quickly. He found the correct queue and approached the Rodian at the head of it, his double-edged lightsaber out and gleaming under the dreary fluorescent lights. The unfortunate Rodian froze in place as his large eyes glassed over with tears, and he somehow found the strength to lift his arm up and hand Darth Maul his number. Darth Maul nabbed it with a haughty laugh, handed it to the civil service droid and received his flight instructions.
After a minute of fear-induced dementia, the Rodian noticed that he was standing in a puddle of his own urine. The Jawas behind him laughed their little laughs and walked around him carefully.
Outside, Maul waited for the civil service droid assigned to him to arrive; an older issue CS-2000. "Now then," said the droid absent-mindedly from the passenger seat, busily writing at a notepad, "fly around and find a spot to park." Darth Maul closed his eyes and concentrated, then grinned evilly and punched the accelerator. The craft hurtled directly upward toward the only available parking spot on Coruscant, which was located just outside a bar and grill. Two seconds before he got the spot, another craft skidded directly into his flight path and docked in his intended spot! In the same instant, Maul angrily slammed on the retro-rockets and flew out the door to see who cut him off.
Maul clenched his fists and prepared to splat whoever walked out the docking bay doors of the old red and white craft, but instead found himself standing frozen before Qui-Gon Jinn, Mace Windu and Yoda. "Oh!" exclaimed Yoda, "did not realize there was valet parking!" He floated a set of keys over to Maul and hung them from one of his horns. The three Jedi walked off into the building without a second thought to Darth Maul.
"...so the quarter-pound burger lunch special is good here?" asked Qui-Gon of Mace.
"You'll dig it the most," assured Mace. "The jukebox has the Backdoor Bantha Boys, Jefferson Starship, The Ewok Village People... hey, do you know what they call a quarter-pounder with cheese on Malastare...?"
Darth Maul shook the keys from his head over the curb. He laughed maniacally, knowing they wouldn't hit the ground for at least a minute. He jumped into his own craft and sped off for another parking space he sensed would become available in front of a Starbucks. The precise same scene played itself out as before, only it was a brand new Nubian craft that cut him off, and the droid's seat belt strap snapped from the strain. The evaluator droid flew upwards, then straight back into the back wall of the cockpit. Maul pulled up alongside the Nubian and motioned for the pilot to roll down their window. A beautiful young woman in white face paint and loud pink sunglasses stared him down.
"S'up?!" asked the girl, peering over her glasses and snapping her gum. "Eww. Gross. Like, what's with the face paint and horns? Are you one of those Star Trek fans, or something?"
Maul paled inwardly. "You're going to The Gap," said Maul, waving his hand.
"You go ahead and take my spot," she said, kicking the craft into gear. "I'm going to The Gap." Her craft dipped downward and took off with a high-pitched squeal.
"Ummmm... that was fine," said the droid, hobbling back into its seat.
Darth Maul decided he'd had enough. "I am obviously fit to pilot a craft. Give me my new license immediately."
The droid agreed. "You actually found a parking spot! That's impossible on Coruscant. I usually tell pilots to do that so's to kill time and avoid paperwork."
Outside, a MM-101 droid was busily printing out a violation ticket for the craft; the spot had switched to a "no parking" zone right before Maul took it! "Excuse me for a moment," said Maul as he jumped out of the craft. His lightsaber blades were fully extended before he hit the ground, and he accosted the droid.
"What's yer problem, mack?" spat the meter maid droid, handing him the ticket. "This is a no parking zone. Move it or lose it!"
"Not now," said Maul, waving his lightsaber around suggestively. "Drop this or I'll disintegrate you. I'm taking a driver's test!"
"Tell a droid who give's a womprat's ass!" beeped the droid, which rolled off to finish its rounds. Maul growled and hacked a streetlight in two, sending the top portion crashing down right in front of the droid, who immediately turned around and printed a correction slip. "Just staple this to your ticket and mail it in. And please...don't disintegrate me?"
Outside the DMV, Maul looked at his shiny new driver's license (his picture made him look like he was about to sneeze) and smiled. He saw his master approach him, with a large Orange Julius in one hand and a bag from Barnes & Noble in the other. "I see you were successful," he observed, his mouth still on the straw.
"Yes, my master," said Maul, "but my picture came out funky."
"Ah, yes," said Lord Sidious, "you will learn that Evil is not an exclusive commodity in this universe. For example, the Old Navy did not have anything in my size. I found that both insulting and demeaning." Maul nodded. Sidious looked up at the building. "The building is still intact, my pupil," he said. "Did you not use your powers to influence the outcome of your tests?"
"I did, master," said Maul insistently, "but there was not much need for..."
Sidious dropped his bag and pimp-smacked his apprentice. "There is always a need for extreme violence!" he thundered. "Remember that. Now, pick up my copy of Men are from Tatooine, Women are from Naboo, and we shall be off."
As Sidious wandered around looking for a trash can for his empty cup, Maul reached for his lightsaber. "Shall we do Pizza the Hutt, Taco Bell or KFC tonight?" asked Lord Sidious.
"Pizza the Hutt!" exclaimed Maul, putting away his weapon and running for the craft.
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