The General Grievous Archives...

I wrote these a few months ago. I was anxiously awaiting the release of the final Star Wars film. So much so, that I bought into all the pre-release hype. One of the major Lucasfilm blitzes involved General Grievous. Grievous was a lizard/robot who had four lightsabers. He looks really cool...really cool. So, learning nothing from the previous films, I bought everything in sight.

So I'll be spending my St. Patrick's Day with General Grievous...
I may not be the only man whose only accomplishment this St. Patrick’s Day weekend is purchasing the Star Wars Revenge of the Sith General Grievous Number 1 Prelude Comic Book, but I am certainly the most deserving of something better.Oh how I would trade these shoddily stapled together pieces of paper for a night of corn beef and cabbage. How I long to shred the salty, juicy beef between my massive molars. I long to wear a shamrock lapel, as green as General Grievous’ glowing lightsaber! A Jedi may not know the anger of a drunken Irishman, but I yearn for the days of drunken stupors instead of paging through an android Jedi-Killer’s exploits with five plump digits.

So I'll be spending my Valentine's Day with General Grievous...

I may not be the only man whose only accomplishment this Valentine’s Day weekend is purchasing the Star Wars Revenge of the Sith General Grievous Sneak Preview action figure, but I am certainly the most deserving of something better. Oh, how I would trade the plastic figure’s 3¾” frame for the smooth, curved body of a woman. I would trade numerous nights with both Grievous and the Wookie Warrior for one night as a Lothario…moving from one pleasure of the flesh to another. Oh, how I would trade one night posing General Grievous and assorted Star Wars characters in exciting positions for one lurid evening, writhing with carnal passion between satin sheets. Oh, how I would trade the figures’ cardboard packaging with a plastic bubble, showcasing the droid general for satin and lace barely containing a supple bosom. How I long to thrust my throbbing manhood into the fleshy folds of a vagina; riper than the juiciest papaya of vine of the Garden of Eden. Sadly though, the evening will most likely end with five plump digits stroking away, dreaming of a Valentine other than the slaughterer of Jedi.