Secret Letters between Firmus Piett and Wedge Antilles

Dear Wedgiekins,

Today I started work on the Accuser. It’s a Super Star Destroyer class which means plush mahogany interior, pimp bling rims and galleys the size of supermalls. Big downer is that it’s under horse-face Ozzel’s command. Its always protocol and standard operating procedures with him. He’s such a pompous tight-ass, if you shove coal up his rear-end, I bet he’ll be shitting diamonds for weeks. Speaking of posteriors, am still fantasizing about our Outer Rim(ing) rendezvous. Next time I get to be probot ok? Sometimes Wedgie, i dream of being with the rebels where there are no rules and we can lead our lives in reckless abandonment if not for that fugly orange uniform. Did you guys get Amidala’s stylist to pick that one? And what’s up with the oversized helmets? To make room for all that ego?

Anyway, Vader’s on the ship. I get all excited whenever I see him. Before you get all pouty jimmeny mcjealous on me, you should know that he is bionic waist down. Just that his dark visage brings me back to that leathery mask I got you. And I now have an idea on how to accessorise you. Let’s just say your cue will be “I see you have constructed a new lightsaber”.

Oh, and between us, we’re entering the Hoth system. I schemed up this very cunning plan, see. I detected some life readings from a probe droid and waited for the opportune moment to tell ol’ gross-el about it, just when Vader was pacing up and down the bridge within earshot. True enough, Ozzel, who I knew was due for his five o’clock, poo-pooed me. Vader had other ideas and over-ruled him. Ozzel then leaned over and gave me his signature “why you..” stare. The one me and the rest of the bridge crew keeps making fun of. Death Squadron trooper #134257 does it best. I soil my pants everytime he does it. Anyway, I would’ve fainted more from Ozzy’s stinky upper lip. Hello…its either tic tacs or respecting ample personal space. Serve him right for taking that last cheese stick at the officers’ mess. Hope he chokes on it like he choked on his command.

So now I’m frantically looking for my swanky new snow boots and warm coat I dibbed when we heisted that corrillian ship. You know, the tan ones with furry trimmings. Dammit, you guys are donning tan too right? We are so gonna clash. Hate the grey imperial issues. They are not cold weather hardy. There’s your samurai-ish hat which pretty much limits peripheral vision to directly straight ahead (and has been the cause of many officers’ demise due to rebel forces’ flanking maneuvres), and then there’s the gloves. The miyake who designed this obviously was a yeti who didn’t know the meaning of frost bite. Who the heck goes out in sub-zero blizzard in a vest and stretchy nazi pants? I heard Tarkin froze his nipples off because of these greys. That’ll pretty much make you wanna blow up planetary systems. Hands down, I’d rather be wearing you to brave any storm. Yup, battle adrenaline rush brings out the romantic poet in me.

Ok, gotta scoot. Vader’s here and I can tell he’s all excited from his noticeably louder wheezing. Save a seat in your snowspeeder for me.

Squeezes and Smooches,


Hey Piett,

Fuck off you fucking fairy!

The Wedgester

p.s. care to fill me in on the destination coordinates of your hyperspace jump?

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