ENTRY 2
Being a hand is a lot like being the wheel of a ground-car; you’re worked without a single thought involved, tossed around, crushed, abused, neglected, forgotten, only stopping long enough to figure out where you’ve been, just before you have to go on once again. It’s the hardest of existences, the lowest of positions, the seemingly infinite torment of not being in control of your own actions nor knowing what you’ll be subjected to next. But you get something out of it, and it’s something that maybe -- just maybe -- makes the whole thing worthwhile.
You get to go along for the ride.
Of course, besides that, there are a few perks to the job. What was the name of the last one? The princess? Leia? Of course, years later, Luke Skywalker found out that the princess was really his sister, which complicated things somewhat, but I heard Luke eventually married that woman who wanted to murder him.
Humans are such weird creatures, aren’t they? It’s a wonder there are so many of them.
But through the years that Luke and I fought our way from the lowliest of hollows to the loftiest of mountains, nothing ever could compare to the thrill that filled me with such ecstasy when Luke used the Force. Introspectively speaking, you might infer that the midi-chlorians enabled me to gain a personality and conscious thought after the Separation, but none of my experiments have been able to either confirm or deny this. I haven’t been able to use the Force since the duel on Bespin, yet I remain a…thinking hand. What is it that you humans say? Lack of interpersonal communication has made me forgetful. Oh yes! “Go figure.”
That lack of knowing does not keep me from longing for the ability to touch the Force once again. To feel the luscious rush and expanding warmth pulsing through my veins, the increased depth of resolve and understanding, the stunning climax of hidden spiraling tendrils reaching toward the infinite…and then to make my will be done upon the galaxy.
Sure, it wasn’t really my will, but it seems that I’ve acquired an ego of late. Well, I can’t help it. How many talking hands do you know?
Being a hand is a lot like being the wheel of a ground-car; you’re worked without a single thought involved, tossed around, crushed, abused, neglected, forgotten, only stopping long enough to figure out where you’ve been, just before you have to go on once again. It’s the hardest of existences, the lowest of positions, the seemingly infinite torment of not being in control of your own actions nor knowing what you’ll be subjected to next. But you get something out of it, and it’s something that maybe -- just maybe -- makes the whole thing worthwhile.
You get to go along for the ride.
Of course, besides that, there are a few perks to the job. What was the name of the last one? The princess? Leia? Of course, years later, Luke Skywalker found out that the princess was really his sister, which complicated things somewhat, but I heard Luke eventually married that woman who wanted to murder him.
Humans are such weird creatures, aren’t they? It’s a wonder there are so many of them.
But through the years that Luke and I fought our way from the lowliest of hollows to the loftiest of mountains, nothing ever could compare to the thrill that filled me with such ecstasy when Luke used the Force. Introspectively speaking, you might infer that the midi-chlorians enabled me to gain a personality and conscious thought after the Separation, but none of my experiments have been able to either confirm or deny this. I haven’t been able to use the Force since the duel on Bespin, yet I remain a…thinking hand. What is it that you humans say? Lack of interpersonal communication has made me forgetful. Oh yes! “Go figure.”
That lack of knowing does not keep me from longing for the ability to touch the Force once again. To feel the luscious rush and expanding warmth pulsing through my veins, the increased depth of resolve and understanding, the stunning climax of hidden spiraling tendrils reaching toward the infinite…and then to make my will be done upon the galaxy.
Sure, it wasn’t really my will, but it seems that I’ve acquired an ego of late. Well, I can’t help it. How many talking hands do you know?
8 comments:
That lack of knowing does not keep me from longing for the ability to touch the Force once again.
Oh, my, that's lovely!
To feel the luscious rush and expanding warmth pulsing through my veins, the increased depth of resolve and understanding, the stunning climax of hidden spiraling tendrils reaching toward the infinite…and then to make my will be done upon the galaxy.
I think I need a cold shower!
Oh, my, that's lovely!
I should've known you'd pick up on the parts about the Force!
I think I need a cold shower!
Hahaha!! I'll admit, it made me hyperventilate a bit, too. :P
This actually slightly amusing...
This actually slightly amusing...
Only slightly? You trying to bruise my ego or something? ;)
Not everyone has my slightly twisted sense of humor... but I find this freakin' hilarious!
don't know why, but I kept envisioning Luke's hand dueling with Uncle Fester or Cousin It.
An amusing exercise in point of view work. Thanks for sharing.
Not everyone has my slightly twisted sense of humor...
As a matter of fact, it's few and far between...:p
don't know why, but I kept envisioning Luke's hand dueling with Uncle Fester or Cousin It.
Now, Cousin It I can understand, but Fester? That's actually a hilarious thought!!
Where is the hand? That's what I want to know. I can't wait for the hand's thoughts on cloning.
Post a Comment