Voldemort vs. Vader: Prologue to the Battle of All Ages (Probably)

         Lord Voldemort, the greatest and the most feared Dark Wizard of all time, stood boldly on a rocky cliff peeking over the dusty and desolate landscape of Tattooine. His fearsome eyes glared at the sand, his fearsome mouth sneered at the suns, and, had his can of hair treatment actually worked, a fearsome mullet would have been fluttering in the wind. As he let the breeze flow through his nonexistent hair, he heard the sharp crunch of footsteps and a deep, heavy breathing creep up the slope behind him. Voldemort stilled. He was either about to face a highly asthmatic bear or--

           “Lord Vader,” he rasped, turning to face his fiercesome opponent, “I heard that monstrosity you call a Death Star looms no more. What happened? Couldn't keep up on the rent? Or was it a termite infestation?”

           Vader slowly raised his arm and stetched out his fingers toward the sassy figure, the tips aimed at the Dark Lord's throat. Then he lowered it quickly has he reached into his pocket to take a few puffs of his inhaler before addressing the wizard.

            “I'll have you know, my children blew it up. Blasted kids. You abandon them at birth, let your troops kill their relatives, kidnap a few of their friends and they feel they have the right to go and blow up your Death Star. Fools! However, I sense you have not requested this meeting to discuss personal matters. Why did I leave my crochet class to come here?”

           The Dark Lord's fearsome stance transformed into an awkward shuffle as he shifted uncomfortably on his feet and muttered, “Iwasderingifyoubeadroboticosesoninouralaxy...”

           “What?? Do I have narcotics and roses in my bakery?”

           “Doyouhaveroboticosesoninouralaxy...”

           “Did the Knicks and Moses have leprosy?”

           “Doyouhaverobicsnosesinyourgalaxy...”

           “Do I have epileptics strike nude poses for pottery?”

           “DO YOU HAVE ROBOTIC NOSES IN YOUR GALAXY!?”

            Lord Vader froze for a moment before bursting into hearty laughter. “Oh ho, so that's what this is all about! Lord Voldemort, terror of the wizarding world, scourge of all who wield wands, enemy of all that is good, is self-conscious of his deplorable nose! Mwahahahahaha! Wait 'till the gals at the crochet class hear this one!” Voldermort fumed silently as Vader rolled on the ground, banging his fists and feet as he chortled over the Dark Lord's pathetic excuse of a nose. After several minutes of continuous and uncontrolled chuckling, Vader pulled out a newly crocheted hankerchief to wipe the tears from his eyes as he turned to face the indignant Dark Lord.

             “I find your lack of self-esteem... amusing. For that reason only, I shall grant you your request. However you must do one small favor for me in return.” Voldemort nodded ferevently. “Anything! Anything! Perhaps when I finally have my new nose, I shall defeat that brat Potter once and for all! What is your request Lord Vader?”

            “I have several new fragances I was planning on giving to the gals at the crochet class and I need an opinion on them. Would you,” he snickered, “... smell them for me?”

             Black fury enveloped Voldemort's nose-less features as the sheer audacity of this impudent Sith Lord struck him full force. How dare he refuse his request for a nose, and how dare he openly mock him through that ugly helmet he called a face! He whipped out his wand. This insolent Sith would rue the day he crossed paths with the Dark Lord! “How very funny, Lord Vader,” he growled, “I daresay, I have not laughed this much since I heard the joke about the 'hot' young man who so very carelessly lost his arms and legs. Couldn't even locate them in the Lost and Found, I heard. How very clumsy of him.”

               Now Vader, taking a quick puff his inhaler, drew his lightsaber as he and the wizard circled each other. “That,” he said, “Was below the belt. Or do you even wear belts with that dress of yours?”

              “IT'S A ROBE!” Voldemort screamed. The gloves, or robotic hands, were off. Glaring at each other, the dysfunctional pair prepared to face off in what promised to be the most epic duel of all time. Probably.

To be continued.....